


endless blue dream

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Prototype: Fragments of Sky Silver, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Camelot spoilers, Lancer Arthur, M/M, Master Arthur AU, Masturbation in Shower, Merlin Alter, Minor Character(s), Mutual Pining, NaNoWriMo 2019, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Proto Merlin, Protofragments Spoilers, Slow Burn, every character in this tag is in these versions for Plot Reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-01-16 12:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: The year is 2000-something, and the stage has been set for another Holy Grail War in Fuyuki. Arthur Pendragon participated in this bloody ritual to reclaim what his family had lost, and the Heroic Spirit Lucius Tiberius answered his call. As the war rages and events started unfolding, not only Arthur’s true motivations and his past is revealed, but they also cross paths with a shadowy figure who had taken advantage of the ritual to further his own twisted ends. At the same time, Arthur and Lucius had to deal with their growing romantic feelings towards each other, in the shadows of the creeping darkness within Arthur, influenced by a Divine Construct he had inherited from his father.Eventually, Arthur had to make an important choice: to follow what he’d coached himself to believe about humanity as a whole, or to fight the ghosts of his own past and retain his humanity, with the fate of the world resting on his decision.AU. NaNo project 2019. Updates sporadically.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I know I haven't been spamming this ship tag as of late, but that actually means I was busy prepping this project. If you follow me on twitter you probably know since this is literally all that I have been agonising about lol. 
> 
> Anyway, serious talk, I already planned this project in full, so I know what's coming and I'll try and add appropriate tags when necessary. So far, standard warnings for a HGW AU applies: mentions of violence, blood, and murder, also alcohol and existential navel gazing. I don't want to spoil too many things, but the background ship will be Arthur/Proto Merlin, with Ayaka it's going to be mostly platonic.
> 
> Since I'm crazy, this is going to be long, and this is going most likely going to be a three-month vacation on a yacht rather than my usual quick oneshots. 
> 
> Okay, now that this is out of the way, enjoy! I will try to update weekly or like every five days when I hopefully already written a full chapter to be published. We'll see.

The girl had a strange understanding of her own fate.

She had always been a peculiar sort of girl, a flicker of fire underneath a shy, bespectacled appearance, and he had taken her into his own family when she was only a child, raised her alongside his own two children, watched as she took tentative steps out of her shell and bloomed from a ghost into a young woman.

It had all been ordained, divined by the stars in all their remote, unfathomable ways, and his family had always looked up to them for guidance for generations. This was not any different—

Seven Masters. Seven Servants. A bloody carnage masquerading as a ritual held in a small, relatively unknown city in the far east. All for a single prize, as grand as anything a magus can dream of, and it was indeed a dream made reality by three influential, powerful magi families: the Einzberns, the Tohsakas, and the Makiris. His family, equally as powerful as it may be, kept to the sidelines with the task of guardianship entrusted upon them.

He had been here before, in this city, before the ritual started. This is where she came from. This is where she’s going to meet her fate. This, too, is where he is going to fulfil his own.

He dreams.

No, he knows that they are visions, but that they belong to someone else, in the near future, and an invisible hand—a light brighter than a star the moment it came into the world, bloody and shining—guides him. He thought that he could hear it, sometimes, lighter than a whisper, barely on the back of his mind, the barest touch of phantom light, and it was holy, divine, right.

The day he told her to come with him to this country, back to her homeland, she didn’t ask for the reason. She just stood there, pale-faced, asking him when are they going to leave. He’d come to understand that before he took her into his family she was an orphan, living with her distant relatives, but he, too, had understood that her deceased older sister was largely a mysterious figure—she seemed to still loom large in the girl’s psyche—and that she had a splash of distant magi ancestry. 

She was already eighteen, only two years younger than his own son then, no longer a little girl, and he doesn’t feel the particular need to lie, but he told her that they are going to visit her relatives there for a short while.

He already had prior information that the grand prize isn’t what they were made to believe. 

No matter, he thought, it is still what it is: a wish-granting device, a tool for seeking the truth. The loss of the first Divine Construct that his family was supposed to be guarding was a tragedy, understatement though it may be, and, following in his predecessors’ footsteps, he had been raised with the notion that regaining knowledge of its whereabouts and reclaiming it was the purpose of their life and their study of the art and science of Magecraft. This ritual is merely a means to accomplish this particular end, and another, one that all magi strived for.

Perhaps she had been crying earlier that day, when he ordered his Servant to fetch her from her room, where he kept her. The ritual is nearly complete, and he was close to obtaining the prize. This was not any different from any usual ritual he’d performed in his life—

It was not his concern. They were all here to fulfil and play their roles, twisted though it may be to the eyes of a bystander. Yet he knows, as certain as the back of his own hand, that she will be missed—not by his distant relatives, not particularly by his own daughter, but by his son, who was extremely fond of her, and he knows, that one of his reasons why he took the girl into his own family was because he and his wife, when she was still alive, thought that she would make a fine companion for their son, that the girl would make him happy, and his wife had always wanted another daughter.

But at the same time he also knows that he is also going to be the one who’s going to take her out from his son’s life.

Fate is a harsh mistress, and it demanded necessary sacrifices—something that he’d hoped his son would grow to understand sooner than later, because the responsibility will soon pass on to him, as his heir, and his son cannot hope to endure the pressure of guarding the construct that held both sides of the world together, or rule the kingdom that will stand after the end of the world if he could not grasp this concept alone.

The girl’s distant magi ancestry also had a role to play in it, of course. As for his son—

His thoughts were interrupted by sudden knocking on the door to the study, but he didn’t rise from his seat behind the desk. He merely told the interruption to come in, pouring himself another glass of red wine while he studied an old family grimoire and waited for the next report.

“Oh, it’s you,” he glanced at her, turning a page on his book. “You’ve finally learnt how to knock. Do you have any news for me?”

“Yes,” the beautiful female mage answered, her mane of shocking white hair reaching down nearly to her waist. He noted for a moment that his advisor’s expression was one of profound sadness, as if the stars themselves had bequeathed her with their tale of looking down at the world for countless eons in their far-off, heavenly seat, and he thought he could see guilt in her nearly inhuman eyes, though she quickly regained her composure. “We are ready to end this ritual. The preparations for the final stage are in place.”

“Good,” he idly thumbed another page before answering, sipping his wine. “Then I suppose it’s time for us to make our way there.”

She smiled, slightly—though strained—and nodded. He closed the book.

He had nearly fulfilled his purpose, he thought, and soon, it will all be over for him, but it was only the beginning, in so many ways.

* * *

They called it a war, but in reality, it was a show, an exquisite banquet of fear and bloodlust, a stage where the strong rules. A fitting little set-up for the birth of his king. 

He does not like to think of it as a rebirth, because the one he knew and the one in this world are two different people, although he doesn’t particularly care about that. All he knew is that it wasn’t a rebirth, because this time, he will do better, and brought forth the perfect kingdom once more, bringing the salvation he once had witnessed to the people of this world, too. All the squirming, salivating, suffering mass of people….what will be left of them after judgement had been passed.

His king will be without flaw this time, without distasteful human shortcomings or human mercy to cloud his judgements or usher in his eventual downfall. He will be a god, keeping the worthy safe and punishing the unworthy. 

The ideal holy king.

He arrived on this world seemingly by chance, but he no longer believes in such a thing, not when his life is so constrained by the brittle string of fate. 

Things are in place now. Humans liked to equate their plans with games, especially chess—something he had played together with her, the exiled daughter, when he arrived some time back—but he thinks it’s more complicated than that. Such is always the case when one is dealing with the mysterious forces that governed the universes. 

The next war will be the last.


	2. the summoning of Saber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summoned as a Saber-class Servant for the upcoming Holy Grail War, the Heroic Spirit Lucius Tiberius agreed to strike a deal with Arthur Pendragon, the magus who summoned him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for this week because the prologue is just the opening. This one will introduce our main characters, aka our two lovely idiots.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Five years later, London**   
  


It was a process, not unlike the birth of a child, how the words of power gradually brought him back his spirit, his body, and, eventually, his mind and the consciousness that comes with it, and the words, too, slowly anchored his existence back into the world. After all, this was, in a sense, a kind of a second life, although he knows that this one is even more ephemeral than the last, and that his body isn’t a real physical body, but an etheric one, made tangible by the remnants of magic in the changed world. The knowledge of things—such as history, year, culture, et cetera—came to him all at once, after his consciousness has returned.

And thus, the summoning ritual, in a technical sense, was complete.

The first thing that he noticed is that he was in a spacious room. The furniture might have been moved aside before to make space, but upon looking at the layout of the room, he knew that it had been intentionally designed as such. It was dimly lit, though adequate, the faint artificial light giving the impression that it was always nighttime, and, through the skylight right above him—still in the summoning circle—the dark tapestry of the night sky peeked through.

He turned his attention to the voice that had called him, the magus who had summoned him. 

He was young, most likely in his mid-twenties where age was concerned, a couple of years younger than him in this body—Heroic Spirits are summoned at their prime, the knowledge that had been given to him by the Grail tells him that—with a serious, mature face, framed by medium-length blond hair that was tied with a ribbon to the side, its golden, silky locks resting on his shoulder. They were more or less the same height, with a similar build, although the other man leaned more on the slender side. The sleeves of his royal blue dress shirt was rolled up just a little, perhaps when he was drawing the circle and preparing the summoning ritual, but otherwise, from the other man’s bearing to the materials of his clothes, the emperor could tell that he was not only well-dressed and well-spoken, but also well-educated, most likely not an ordinary magus from an unknown bloodline.

As a matter of fact, he felt as if they had met before.

“Are you my Master?” The emperor finally deigned to ask, after he finished cataloguing the details of the other man’s appearance—after all, despite the lingering sense of recognition, he wasn’t bad to look at, on the contrary, in fact—haughtily, relishing the fact that he could speak again. He was already itching to find out how well he could do when it comes to fighting an opponent, now that he had become a Heroic Spirit, with everything that entailed.

“Yes,” the well-dressed man answered quietly, meeting his intense, inquiring gaze directly. It was hard to read the emotions lying behind his calm green eyes, though it felt a little startling when their gaze meet, and his cool voice betrayed nothing. “I am the magus who summoned you to be my Servant in the coming war for the Holy Grail. Introduce yourself.”

He does not like being ordered, especially by a magus he hasn’t yet accepted as his Master, but something about the other man made him stay his hand. Perhaps it was the fact that he was still relishing the joy of being alive again, even if only as a phantom in a world that would no longer accept his existence under normal circumstances.

“Saber-class Servant,” he cockily declared, with a slight, self-assured smile and a tilt of his head. “If you are going to be my Master, then surely you already know my True Name, or at least have a clue about it. You don’t seem like the type who would summon a Servant by accident.”

“I am not,” the other man confirmed, flatly, unamused by his antics. “I’ve prepared extensively for this ritual. I know who you are. Famed Roman warrior Lucius Tiberius, better known as the Sword Emperor for your divine sword and your prowess in battle.”

“Well done,” Lucius grinned, sheathing his sword. “You’ve done your homework. Now tell me who you are, and then I will determine if you are suitable to be my Master.”

“My name is Arthur Pendragon,” the green-eyed magus told him, still unruffled, gaze not leaving his. “And the Grail is as good as yours already if you accept me as your Master.”

First, he was surprised—not only by the revelation of the younger man’s family name, but also by his bold remark—then he was amused, and he laughed, since he couldn’t contain it any longer. Arthur, to his credit, still seem very much unfazed by this.

“That is a bold statement to make, but, what can you really offer me if I acknowledged this contract, in return for my cooperation?” Lucius watched him closely, tried to find an opening to strike him verbally and get a rise out of him. “Do you not know that the thought of serving a Pendragon makes me want to skewer someone? Perhaps it was too soon for me to sheathe my sword.”

A flicker of surprise in Arthur’s deceptively calm green eyes, but it quickly disappeared, like a ripple swallowed by the mirror-like water of a pond.

“No,” Arthur responded, his tone honest if not a bit off-guard, a first. “But I can offer you this: not only the Grail, but victory, in the broadest sense of the word. I know that you relished in the pleasure of battle and the thrill of defeating your enemies. And as your Master, I will provide you with everything you need for the sake of achieving this goal, including but not limited to information and magical energy. If you recognised my family name, then you probably know that we are one of the ruling families in the Clock Tower, and we have a long history to support our position of power. Should not that be enough for you to begin with, Your Majesty?”

He surely is, at least, well-spoken, Lucius thought, and, observing him, he could see the familial resemblance between Arthur and the man who defeated him in the past, and the physical resemblance is uncanny, although the question of whether or not they are also similar in terms of personality and beliefs still needs time to be resolved satisfyingly. On one hand, how fate turned out to be amused him, but on another, he meant what he said, a part of him balked at the thought of working together with a descendant of the man who had bested him in battle. No, it’s less of a partnership, they are called Servants for a reason, Lucius sourly thought.

And yet, he immediately knows that Arthur was telling the truth: his bloodline was a storied, powerful one, and Arthur himself seemed like a capable magus, although inexperienced in ways of bloody conflict. It wasn’t hard to tell that fate dealt him a hand with a good chance in victory, at least, and if all else fails, he could always kill this one and find another source of magical energy, perhaps even someone who’s worthy.

“You still have a long way to go if you truly are going to be worthy of becoming my Master, and I still don’t like the thought of serving someone from your family, but I suppose for the moment we have a deal,” Lucius told him, studying his reaction. “Very well, I accept your contract. I am at your service, Arthur Pendragon.”

“And I will fulfill my end of the bargain, and provide you with what I promised you earlier,” Arthur tactfully replied, and Lucius noted that he visibly relaxed. “Now, if you have nothing else to say to me, I need to take care of other things. I will see you again in about half an hour, in the dining room. One of my homunculi servants will take you to your room and look after your needs. He will come and fetch you later, when I summon you again.”

“I suppose I’ll save my inquiries for later when we talk again,” Lucius shrugged. “In that case, I’ll see you soon, Arthur.”

“Yes, I’ll see you soon,” Arthur sounded almost glad that Lucius would soon be out of his hair, for the moment at least, but he was good at masking it. 

His Master, he noted, after he left the room (although he doesn’t particularly like to think of him as such), was quite decent, and he seemed to be a righteous man, his clear lack of experience aside, but still, at the same time, Lucius can’t quite shake the feeling that there are deeper things going on underneath the surface, that Arthur is certainly more than just meets the eye. 

It stirs his curiosity, this air of enigmatic mystery, and, once awakens, he knows that he won’t be able to put it to rest until it was well and truly satiated.


	3. the night before departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after the summoning, Arthur invited Lucius to dine with him, and the two had a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want this to lag too far behind my current progress, so I'll update this every couple of days or so if I already stockpiled enough chapters. 
> 
> Expect chapter 3 in a couple of days. Enjoy!

The homunculus servant arrived as if on cue soon after Lucius stepped out of the summoning room, and took him past dimly lit hallways to what he immediately recognised as a guest room. As Servants, they are no longer tied to the banality of human needs since they subsist on mana alone, and he could always switch to Spirit Form when necessary, but he supposed Arthur’s gesture of assigning him his own quarters and the invitation to dinner was a sign of goodwill from the magus’ part. He valued privacy, Lucius can immediately tell, perhaps even more intensely so than the rest of his kind.

There was nothing special about the room—it was just as sparsely decorated as an often-empty guest room was supposed to be—and clearly it had been prepared beforehand for his arrival, since it seemed to be freshly cleaned and the linen bedsheets changed. The homunculus servant then proceeded to patter on about the bathroom, the spare clothes in the closet, and so on, and he wasn’t really listening, since he doesn’t really have a need to, and he knows that he’s not going to stay here for long, either, but soon enough he was left alone to his own devices.

Half an hour passed by in a flash, and the homunculus servant knocked on his door, telling him that Arthur had waited for him in the dining room, and that dinner was being served. 

When he arrived in the dining room, the meal had been served and Arthur was already seated on the head of the table. The place on his right hand side had conspicuously been set for him. Lucius considered ignoring this to sit across him on the other end of the table, but he could feel the magus’ cool gaze on him, almost challenging. In the end, he followed the homunculus servant and seated himself on the place already set for him, although not without a dramatic pause.

Neither of them said anything, but loathe as he was to admit Arthur’s position as his superior, he knows enough about manners to wait until the master of the house started dining before he did the same.

“I hope your living arrangements is to your liking, Saber,” Arthur broke the silence first,after they had already finished their appetizers, delicately cutting the meat of his steak. “I suppose I do not need to state the obvious that it is temporary, since tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we will leave for Fuyuki, where the ritual will take place. An associate of mine had already been waiting for us, and my family owned a place there, so everything had been arranged.”

“It does seem like you have already prepared everything in anticipation of the war,” Lucius remarked, only mildly amused. He was testing the waters, he wanted to know how much information Arthur was willing to divulge about himself. “Since earlier you promised me that information is part of what you are going to provide, what do you already know about the other six who will be participating?”

This, too, was a test, although he also felt genuinely curious—besides, it is always good to have a rough glimpse of his opponents so he could anticipate their movements—and he placed his eating utensils beside his plate, leaning back on his seat so he could give Arthur the full weight of his attention.

“You, out of all people, should understand by now the importance of not underestimating your opponents,” the light jab did not go unnoticed, but Lucius lets Arthur continue. “Preparation is the most important stage. And yes, of course, I already obtained information about the other participants. My informants told me that the three founding families of the ritual will participate as Masters. The other three seem to be non-standard, although their identities still largely remained unknown, and all of the Servant classes had been summoned. Once we reach Fuyuki, the battle for the Holy Grail will begin in earnest.”

Arthur had managed to avoid his bait masterfully, and he revealed nothing about himself, although the jab was certainly interesting, since earlier he claimed to have no knowledge about what had happened in the past, between his family and Lucius. But it only serves to deepen Lucius’ curiosity about the other man.

“That makes it three potentially powerful enemies, and three unknowns. I don’t suppose your so-called informants know what manner of Heroic Spirits they had manage to summon just yet, or who summoned what, in terms of class,” he resumed eating, languidly, making Arthur wait for the rest of his words on purpose. “But we’ll soon find out.”

“What you are trying to say is that my information is lacking,” came the calm retort, but there was a sharp glint of annoyance in Arthur’s gaze. “There will always be unknowns when it comes to war—“

“And what do you know about war, Arthur?” Lucius cuts him off, mimicking his unperturbed tone, although he gave him a slight, condescending smile. “It’s not even a real war, at least not in the traditional sense. You magi devised a ritual in which seven Heroic Spirits summoned as Servants fight to the death in order to grant their own and their Masters’ wish. It’s clever, I give you credit for that, and I surely cannot wait to stain my own sword with the blood of six heroes of legends, but it’s far from a war. If anything, it is more to the size of a small-scale skirmish.”

“I should have known that your motivations should be as bloody and twisted as your own legend,” Arthur shook his head, distastefully, and the look he gave him would make anyone else felt at least slightly ashamed of themselves, but Lucius barely give it notice, and continued forking his own steak into his mouth. “Do you not have any idea how much havoc a single Servant can wreck, in comparison to a normal human being? Or should I remind you that I won’t hesitate to contain you with my Command Spells, if you disobey me one time too many?”

“I really think you should take good care of them, Arthur. If you used up all of them before the war had been won, your blood will be the next to stain my Florent, and I suppose it would be a glorious payback, considering what an ancestor of yours did to me,” Lucius told him, still just as calm, giving him a slow, dangerous smile. “It would do you well to remember, before you make any more threats, that we had a deal earlier, flimsy though it may be.”

It was clear that Arthur was about to argue with him, from the look on his face and the storm that had already started brewing in his eyes, even if he still tried his best to contain it. Lucius met his gaze head-on, challenging him to continue this argument, already relishing the fact that he had managed to get a rise out of him, and the discovery that Arthur is indeed not as levelheaded as he seemed to be, not to mention that this argument brought some sort of excitement before the war begins in earnest.

“Yes, we do have a deal, and I apologise for my unseemly conduct,” Arthur said, after a certain amount of tense silence, his gaze and expression once more impassive. If he was still infuriated, he had managed to not let it show. “However, it would do you good to remember, too, that your divine sword is not invincible, Your Majesty.”

The cryptic manner in which he said it piques Lucius’ interest, and he laughed, amusedly, pushing his empty plate aside, reaching for the wine glass.

“I have yet to see how you fare in a real battle, but you have spirit, Arthur, I grant you that,” he sipped the dark red liquid, finding pleasure in the simple fact that he was able to taste it again. Arthur seemed to scowl at this remark, but otherwise, another silence passed between them. He’s not done with asking questions yet, however, but Lucius waited until Arthur relaxed and settle down a little before he asked his next question. “Now that we’ve had dinner and established, again, that we had a deal, why don’t you tell me why are you so interested in the Grail?”

Arthur seemed to be mildly surprised by the sudden question, but it doesn’t take him long to compose an answer.

“The ritual had one true purpose, one that all magi strived for…to reach the Root, the Akashic Records that was All That Was, Is, and Will Ever Be, the mysterious ‘Source’ that everyone seeks,” Arthur sipped his own glass of wine, contemplative, avoiding his gaze, perhaps not purposefully, yet Lucius can sense that there was more to it than that. “I have been raised with the notion that obtaining it is the end goal of our lifelong devotion towards the art and science of Magecraft, the most important objective of all.” 

“Ah, so it was yet another familial responsibility to you,” Lucius thought that Arthur’s answer sounded practiced, as if it was a speech that he’d rehearsed a couple of times before in front of a mirror, and he wasn’t convinced, not in the slightest, especially since his hunch told him that there was something deeply personal hidden underneath that standard issue, acceptable, bland answer, not to mention that the memories of his own death that keeps resurfacing because of Arthur’s resemblance with the man who defeated him gave rise to another question, but he tried to keep his own true emotions and thoughts hidden. “Certainly, your family’s interests seemed to be of the utmost importance to you, is it not?”

“Yes, well, I’ve become head of the family since my father passed away three years back, and soon, I will be a full Lord in the Clock Tower’s ruling council,” perhaps there was another flicker of annoyance in Arthur’s pasture green eyes, but he kept his restraint. “It should not be a surprise that my family’s interests are my priority. After all, a magus’ purpose is to ensure that the existence of their family is assured through the passing on of knowledge and secrets to the next generation, and obtaining more of both is certainly very important.”

“It’s not my concern what magi chose to do with themselves,” Lucius shrugged, trying to stifle a yawn. Arthur seemed to believe, seriously, in what he is saying, which bores him, but at the same time, he still had a nagging feeling that something is amiss. “However, one thing certainly interests me. A certain sacred sword belongs to your family, isn’t it?”

“…yes,” Arthur answered, almost immediately, but Lucius recognised the hesitance in his tone and expression. 

“It was a most impressive weapon. I suppose I made a mistake when I underestimated it. Evidently, it was more than a worthy rival for my own Florent,” Lucius continued, since Arthur doesn’t seem to want to divulge more. “It was the sword that ended my life. The light…I suppose it could be equated to the breath of this planet itself, if such a thing had a form.”

“Somehow, I have overlooked this important information, but I have rectified my mistake earlier,” Arthur mused, leaning back on his seat. “I know now that you fell at the hands of an ancestor of mine. That is why you refused to accept the contract at first, isn’t it? Why you balked at the thought of being my Servant?”

“Not only that, as I previously said, I have yet to see how you fare in a real battle,” Lucius studied him again, smirking lightly. “But, if you hold the sacred sword, if that was your inheritance as a Pendragon, then I suppose I might be able to acknowledge your worth and suitability as my Master sooner…although, I would want a rematch at some point, as well, if such a thing is at all possible.”

He was mostly teasing him, but Arthur fell silent, shifting his gaze away once more, and Lucius noticed that he suddenly seemed distant, withdrawn. But this time he chose to wait, although patience was never his strong suit.

“No, such a rematch as you call it would be nothing short from impossible,” Arthur finally said, tentatively meeting Lucius’ gaze. “Excalibur had been lost for decades. My family wanted to reach the Root, yes, but at the same time we had to reclaim knowledge of its whereabouts and obtain it back. That was why I needed the Holy Grail.”

“One would be wondering how one could lost something so important and powerful,” this new piece of information, too, deepens his curiosity, but he tried to contain it. Lucius wasn’t afraid of conflict with Arthur, evidently, but he wanted to know more, and he doesn’t want to scare Arthur away just yet. “Did you not try to lock it away, cast protective spells on it, or whatever it is you magi are good for?”

“Yes, we did, but…” Arthur blushed, lightly, another first, and it amused him, but Arthur quickly looked away again before Lucius could commit it to memory. “It’s a long story. I don’t want to talk about it. And, since we’re done here, I should do a last round of preparations, since we are going to leave early tomorrow.”

There was a finality to his tone, and, judging from the way Arthur immediately rose from his seat afterwards, he truly did not want to talk about it, and Lucius did not press the matter further. After all, the war would begin soon, and it already loomed large in his imagination, a gigantic beast waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Very well,” Lucius said, rising from his seat as well, albeit more languidly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help but think, still, that Arthur was hiding something, aside from a peculiar sort of strangeness that was possibly inherent to all magi, but he pushed the thought aside, turning his mind to the journey that awaited them tomorrow morning.


	4. arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius and Arthur arrived in Fuyuki, and was received by Bedivere, a friend of Arthur's. The pair had a heated conversation about initial strategy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to update tomorrow night but god...tonight my friend gave me so much Lucithur feelings I just need to update this to get it out of my system lol. Progress so far: chapter five have been finished, on to six soon.
> 
> Please bear with the buildup just a little bit longer. I promise things start getting more interesting in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention but there is a playlist for this particular AU/story [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/starfaell/playlist/7Bu2ffchKoIn17BvD9ZArs?si=-wFyP6UmRue3FiiDg7DnKw). Enjoy!

The grey, foggy city that was modern day London and the lonely, twilit mansion quickly faded from memory like a wave receding into the ocean as soon as they landed in Fuyuki. There was no time to explore the latter, nor did Lucius had any interest in doing so, but it might as well be a graveyard for the particular, hauntingly lonely quality that couldn’t help but linger a little in his psyche, even as they unloaded themselves into a different country, and he wondered, absently, for a moment, how anyone could have called such a place home. 

The sky is different here—not a ghastly, sickly grey like the one they’d left behind in London, nor a deep, absorbing blue like the one overlooking Rome, back when he was still alive—and the air, too, is different. He thought that they attracted a fair bit of attention in the small airport, but that was probably because there wasn’t too many foreigners around despite the supposed internationality of the place, and he knew that both he and Arthur made for a striking pair. It was hard to miss his red hair, and the fact that Arthur had insisted that he should try to blend in with the times—which just means an immaculate, tailored dark suit—doesn’t help, though Lucius did enjoy the attention, since he had always loved to bask in the adoration of his subjects as much as he revelled in the fear of his enemies. Arthur doesn’t seem to approve, and perhaps he started to regret his decision of letting him stick around in a physical form instead of his Spirit Form, but Lucius doesn’t care.

They fly in a private jet, and a woman in an unassuming dark suit had waited for them at the airport to pick them up. 

The trip to the place Arthur had mentioned before their departure was filled with silence, very much like their plane ride from London—Arthur only talked to him when it was absolutely necessary to do so, and all the attempts of conversation that Lucius had made because he was bored and curious was met with short, perfunctory answers, and most of the time, Arthur sequestered himself in the back, mostly asleep or reading—and Lucius chose to pretend to be interested in the view from the car window, although he was actually observing the other man.

It wasn’t hard to tell that the argument they’ve had before they left on the night of his summoning still lingers on the back of Arthur’s mind and affected how he treated him, although, at the same time, Arthur doesn’t seem to be the type who talk much.

A young man answered the door and greeted them when they arrived, his fine silver-blond hair neatly tied back. 

“It must have been quite a tiring journey,” his smile was every bit as warm as his eyes, and he ushered them in. “I’ve been waiting for you ever since I’ve received word that you’ve departed from London, Arthur.”

“It was fine. Thank you for looking after things,” Arthur replied, mildly, and he must have caught the other’s inquiring glance towards Lucius, who was standing beside him. “Saber will be staying with us here. I hope you’ve prepared a room for him, as well, as I’ve requested before,” he said to the silver-haired man, before he turned slightly towards him. “Saber, this is Bedivere. He is a friend of mine as well as my family’s, and he will look after us during our stay here in Fuyuki.”

“A pleasure,” Lucius said, shortly, just a little bit bored, out of social necessity than anything genuine since he doesn’t really care, and when their gaze meet—Bedivere was sizing him up as much as it was the other way around, he was certain of it—he knew that the feeling was quite mutual, although the silver-haired man mustered a smile.

“The pleasure is mine,” Bedivere’s response was smooth, and his smile was most likely genuine, although Lucius could sense something else underneath, and he turned to address Arthur. “Yes, I’ve prepared a room for him, as per your request, and you’ll find your belongings in your respective rooms. Perhaps you’d like me to take you there now, if you’re tired…?”

“No, I think the sitting room should be fine for now,” Arthur politely said, the refusal soft but clear, and Lucius felt a certain sort of amusement at this, wondering how the other man would react. He still haven’t made up his mind about his supposed Master yet, although he was certain now that Arthur was absolutely full of surprises, but he doesn’t think he felt particularly fond of Bedivere, for reasons unknown. 

“Of course, if that’s what you want,” Bedivere nodded, and led the way deeper into the Western-style house. The house wasn’t as big as the mansion that they left behind in London, but it was still quite spacious, and located far from the bustling heart of the city, in a sleepy suburb, the hallways quite brightly lit, a nice change from the dismal mansion. Lucius absently glanced at the paintings they passed by along the way as the silver-haired man pattered on. “Though I really think that you should be resting soon. But I suppose we can catch up for a bit in the meanwhile. How are things back home?”

“Nothing changed much. Everything is the same as usual. I don’t think you’ve left for that long, anyway, since you only left for Fuyuki a couple of weeks back,” Arthur told him, and Lucius felt his already low interest in the conversation diminishing even further, although at least he can glean that both of them seemed to be good friends, quite close, even if Arthur wasn’t particularly warm towards Bedivere either, in both tone and expression. Still, it was easy to tell, from the familiar way they addressed each other. Bedivere seemed to hold some sort of a deep respect towards Arthur, too, from the almost reverent manner in which he addressed him, and, although Lucius doesn’t particularly care, it too piques his interest, to a certain degree.

“Well, in that case, I should be asking about you instead,” there was another warm smile there in Bedivere’s tone, and Lucius fought the urge to roll his eyes or yawn. He tried to think of the war ahead, since he had started desiring to switch to Spirit Form and remain in that mode until battle calls. “You really should be taking better care of yourself, Arthur. And I do hope the trip here isn’t very taxing for you, Saber.”

He had hoped that Bedivere would have forgotten about him to spare him all the lies and inherent boredom of small talk, yet the mention of his name anchors him back in the reality of the situation, and Lucius was grateful that, before he could answer, they arrived at the sitting room, and Bedivere opened the door, letting them in.

“I’ll go fetch some tea and biscuits, and I’ll be back in a bit,” he added, after they stepped into the room. “Would you be needing anything else?”

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you,” Arthur sat down on the sofa, and Lucius chose to sit on the chair opposite him. “And since we’re here now, why don’t you check if the additional protective measures are working properly? I’d check them out myself later, but for now I’d take things easy for a bit, as you said.”

“I’ll check right away. I’ll be right back,” Bedivere nodded, and promptly left them, closing the door behind him. Silence immediately filled the room after he left, and Lucius thought that it would perhaps continue until the silver-haired man returned, but he really couldn’t be silent any longer.

“That was the associate you mentioned?” Lucius leaned back on his seat, casually draping an arm on the armrest. “He seemed more of a close friend of yours than an associate.”

“We go a long way back,” Arthur calmly said, meeting his inquiring gaze. “His family had worked for mine for a couple of generations, and we trusted them with some of our secrets. Bedivere’s family wasn’t around for very long yet, and his family is nowhere near as powerful as mine, but he is a reliable individual nonetheless, and his aptitude at Magecraft is not bad.”

“Well, I suppose so long as you are certain that you can trust him, I see no problem with that, since my only concern is victory,” Lucius shrugged, but before Arthur could respond, he tilted his head, and smiled, teasingly. “So, now that we’re here in Fuyuki, what are we going to do first…Master?”

“We wait and observe,” if Arthur was surprised, he hid it well, and his gaze revealed nothing about the inner workings of his mind. This seemingly impenetrable calm gets on Lucius’ nerve, a little, mainly because he already knows that Arthur had a temper, and that he’d caught a glimpse of it the night they argued for the first time. “I’ve prepared disposable spy drones, and soon, I’ll start dispatching them to places that might be of interest to us. I’ll spare some to be on the look out in the city and around this house.”

“Not particularly surprising, coming from you, but honestly, that is just seriously boring,” Lucius remarked, already glimpsing familiar annoyance in Arthur’s gaze. “You said you know who I am, and you also know that my class excels in close-range combat, so why shouldn’t we just bait our enemies out and strike first? I can absolutely promise you a good show.”

“No,” Arthur’s retort was frosty and the look he gave him was positively icy, but Lucius wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “I’m not taking the chance. There are too many unknowns. We don’t know yet what manner of Heroic Spirits we are going to face. You may have the advantage of being the strongest class and an incorrigible show-off, but that doesn’t mean we can’t lose.”

“Well, I suppose I’d rather be an incorrigible show-off than a stick in the mud,” Arthur’s little jab—again—left him feeling more terribly amused than infuriated, and he thought that Arthur was like a child poking a hornet’s nest, but all the same, Lucius still felt a little bit annoyed at his childish antics. “Spies won’t let you know what they are going to be like in actual battle. True, you can make assumptions and anticipate, but it’s better to put your assumptions and little theories to rest and just meet them head-on. Besides, Heroic Spirit or not, they’d still die if I run them clean with my sword.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a veteran warrior and a venerable Emperor, Saber, but here you are spouting nonsense,” Arthur flatly said, looking him dead in the eye. “And you said I’m the inexperienced one. If all you want is a massacre, then I think I’ve made a contract with the wrong Servant.”

“The feeling is quite mutual, so you can rest assured, Master,” he lazily responded, only feeling just a tad bit annoyed, still. He doesn’t know if Arthur is trying to get a rise out of him—possibly as revenge for the other night—or if he is just naturally this stubborn, but, either way, Lucius doesn’t really feel like taking the bait. Despite the Command Spells—that Arthur had threatened him with the other night, too—he knows that he still hold some advantage, notably of being so much stronger than him. “I do not want mindless carnage, what I want is glorious battles for its own sake and for the glory of my Empire, so you’ve misread me there. Otherwise, don’t you think I would be summoned as a Berserker?” He cocked his head, smugly, trying to gauge Arthur’s reaction. “But I do understand the value of necessary sacrifices. In any war, casualties will surely occur. You can’t pretend to care about innocent lives when your very own rule stated that any witnesses should be executed on the spot.”

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, about to argue with him hotly from the looks of it, but, at the same moment, the door swings open, and in comes Bedivere, with the tea and biscuits that he’d promised earlier. A short, tense silence passed, in which Bedivere looked at them, evidently quite confused.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Bedivere expressed, looking at him for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Arthur. Lucius just shrugged, couldn’t really be bothered to make up something.

“No, everything’s fine,” Arthur answered, though he avoided Bedivere’s questioning, confused look, and smoothed himself. “We were just going through…some things.”

Lucius thought that he saw a knowing look in Bedivere’s eyes, and the silver-haired man instinctively looked at him, a momentary gaze which he imagined hiding steel underneath it, but he quickly looked away before Lucius could really put a finger on it.

“Ah, in that case, I suppose I come at the right moment, since both of you must be quite hungry and still tired from your trip,” Bedivere’s words were amicable, his expression perfectly cordial, and, as he put down the tray on the coffee table, once more making conversation with Arthur, Lucius excused himself mentally from it. He couldn’t really be bothered to be polite any more, especially not after what went down earlier before Bedivere’s interruption.

He still yet to form a complete opinion of Arthur, although he thinks that the magus did rub him off the wrong way, and Lucius wasn’t sure if he liked him in any sense of the word except for the physical—he had to admit that Arthur is a beautiful man, and he could not help but appreciate beauty where he finds it, he enjoys it as much as he enjoys fighting—but he will still wait to see how he would fare in a real, actual battle once they cross paths with another Servant.

Observing him, Lucius was once more overcome with the feeling of deja vu, and the memories of his last moments threatens to resurface once more, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Only time and the fires of battle will tell if this one is a true Pendragon or not, he thought.


	5. visions of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, awoken after a strange, recurring dream, decided to go out to the city anyway and gather some intel there, taking Lucius along with him. The two spent some time in the city, and another Servant showed up at the end of their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm physically incapable of letting this lag too far behind my writing progress, so I'm gonna update like three days or so if I stockpile enough chapters and if I don't get lazy. I'm currently on the second half of chapter 8. 
> 
> Next chapter will be...fun...more sword swinging...and it will be in the next couple of days, I promise. <strike>enjoy their stupid not-date at the city</strike>

He had seen these before. The gilded, shining city. The high, silver throne. The light, brighter than anything he had could ever imagine…the light consumes everything.

When he was younger, his mentor had taught him in one of his lessons on Magecraft that, to the Ancient Egyptians, to dream of something means to behold an event that had already happened, so much so that their word for “dream” means “to witness”.

Sometimes he could almost imagine that the violent light had a voice. A faint whisper, barely even that, like an invisible hand, calling him.

His eyelids fluttered open as consciousness washes over him, like the late morning light peeking in through the still-closed curtains, and Arthur Pendragon lie awake on his bed, grasping futilely at the receding dream.

It took him a moment to process everything: this was not his room back in his house, that he was no longer in London, and the war for the Holy Grail—one that he had been prepared to participate in, following the footsteps of his late father—had begun, although first blood had yet to be drawn. Instinctively, Arthur reached for the cross-shaped pendant he wore around his neck, a little reassured by the metallic material and the familiar heft of it.

He tried to recall the details of his dreams, but all the same, the most he could remember is vague impressions. This was hardly the first time. 

The last Holy Grail War took place here, five years ago, although details about its ending was kept secret, even by his own father, who participated in the ritual, and just two years after it ended, his father passed away, and guardianship of the Divine Construct he was holding—the other, the only one remaining ever since they lost the sacred sword—passed on to Arthur as his heir. That, too, was when he officially became the head of the family, for what it’s worth, since he was the last one remaining.

Around the same time, the strange dreams start.

It had always been the same, more or less, although Arthur was certain that it was slightly different each time, but he could not remember any of them in detail, since the fleeting visions always eluded the grasp of his memory every time he wakes up.

He had tried to scour his late father’s journals and even grimoires in his pursuit of answers, desperately trying to figure out if the same thing happened to his father, but it was all in vain, since there was not a single mention of it.

Thoughts of his late father had always brought back the sour, lingering bitterness that Arthur knows so well by now, like swallowing a mouthful of rotten fruits, and he doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to keep holding on, but a part of him whispers that he should not forget.

He wasn’t quite a monster, Arthur thought, not exactly. He remembered moments in his childhood where he could glimpse someone who yearns for emotional intimacy, someone human, underneath his father’s stern, coldly rational surface, moments when he treated him as his son, not his heir or a magus, but the moments are as fleeting as his dreams of light. Growing up, Arthur still looked up to him as a son would, although they were never been close, and he knows that they were not destined to be, especially since his father used to think of him as soft, with all his youthful, wide-eyed idealism, and that had no place in the world they were in, the world Arthur was born into, where family dictates power and secrets are more valuable than any gold. 

But she had been the sun in his life, and his father—

His thoughts was interrupted by a knock on his door, and he realised that he was still fingering his pendant, absent-mindedly. 

Arthur quickly got out of bed, reached for the nearest shirt—one that he had been wearing last night—and hastily throws it on, fumbling with the buttons a little before he opened the door.

“I’m sorry if I wake you,” Bedivere’s tone was mildly apologetic, as he stood behind the door, holding a silver tray in his hands. “I understand that you might still be jet-lagged from the trip, and you missed breakfast, so I thought I should just bring it to you.”

“I’m already awake,” Arthur informed him, moving aside to let him in. “You needn’t apologise. And I already feel much better, thank you. I’m sorry I missed breakfast.”

“I’m just glad that everything’s okay,” he watched as the silver-haired man sets the tray on the table in the corner, and then proceeded to open the curtains, letting the light stream in. “Saber did come to breakfast, but then I have not the slightest clue where he disappeared into, after that,” Bedivere paused, turning to face him, an emotion moving too fast for Arthur to grasp graced his fine features. “He is…quite the character, isn’t he. If I may be honest with you, Arthur, I’m not quite sure what to think of him.”

Perhaps there was a whiff of mild disapproval there, and Arthur nearly asked directly if he doesn’t like Saber, but he held his tongue, thinking back to their conversation in the sitting room yesterday, and the one before that, back in London, after his summoning. Both left quite a bad taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t say he had a high opinion of his Servant, either, not after their bickering, and he knew that the feeling was quite mutual, but he held his tongue. Not because he cares about Saber, he thought, but because he doesn’t want to concern himself too much with the Heroic Spirit he’d summoned. That was a surefire way to get emotionally invested, and, even if Arthur had tried to treat him with decency, he knows that he needs Lucius only for the purpose of obtaining the Greater Grail here in Fuyuki, and nothing else. Their relationship was one built of necessity instead of anything remotely sentimental, and he’d been made to understand, in preparation of the war by his own father, that Servants, even if they are heroes and that they used to be alive once, are merely tools for a singular end, which is their sole purpose, and such tools are made to be used, not coddled.

This wasn’t what he always believed, but now Arthur couldn’t see any other way, and, in a sense, he thought that their colourful, distinctive personalities—when he read on notes and journals about the previous wars beforehand—was quite the unfortunate side effect, since they are, in his mind, not far from being merely glorified familiars. 

“He will appear soon, when he’s bored or when he needs to bother someone,” Arthur simply remarked, noticing that Bedivere was waiting for him to respond, and he seated himself on the chair facing the table where Bedivere had set down the tray for him. “Do not pay him any mind. I’ll handle him.”

“Yes, of course. I trust your judgement,” Bedivere gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Are you planning to go out today?”

“I do, on second thought,” Arthur said, after a small pause, pouring himself tea. Bedivere tried to take over the task from him, but he gently pushed his hand away. “I’ll be going out to the city shortly to gather some information. Saber will accompany me. Perhaps it will satiate his restlessness for a bit.”

“Very good,” the silver-haired man nodded, amiably, with a smile. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast, then, before it gets cold.”

Arthur thanked him, and the other man left, closing the door behind him. He thought of Saber’s “plan” while he eat, of his professed wish, and he couldn’t help but think of how ridiculous it is, to live for the thrill of a battle, and, even more ridiculous was how he wanted them to just go and jump headfirst into the battlefield…but, Arthur had to admit, perhaps the emperor did have a point. After all, spy drones can only go so far, and they are prone to being destroyed especially when detected by an adept Master, fragile and limited as they are in capability, and Arthur knows that at least three of his enemies are not to be underestimated. He doesn’t really think all that much about the Matou Master, and the Einzberns’ power have already been diminishing, but the Tohsakas are still more or less a threat, and, beyond that, he still yet to figure out the identities of the three remaining Masters.

He still dispatched some spies last night, but perhaps the city itself will yield some more useful information. 

Arthur considered all of these for another moment, before he reached out with his mind to Saber—even if he hated the thought of spending another day in close proximity to him, Arthur tried to put his personal feelings aside, and besides, he did not want to get emotionally involved or to let Saber know that he’d managed to get under his skin—informing him of the upcoming trip to the city. He doesn’t bother giving him an order to prepare himself, since he knows that the man would probably jump at the prospect of battling another Servant.

He doesn’t bother, either, to wait for a response, instead finishing his breakfast.

* * *

It was a nice day out, he supposed, the afternoon sky a serene shade of pale blue, the air mild, albeit with an early winter chill. A refreshing change from the shroud of sombreness that seemed to cover London, although there is a heaviness in the air here, too, even if it wasn’t the same. It was quite bustling, locals going about their business, having not a single clue that their city will soon become a battlefield in a secret war. 

Saber is annoyingly chatty, and Arthur missed the time when he could purposefully avoid him on the plane and back at the house, although he was quiet on that car ride they’ve had from the airport when they just arrived in Fuyuki. It’s not so much as being chatty in itself as it is trying to get on his nerves, but if he gave him short, cold responses, his Servant just tried to bother someone else—hitting on a waitress when they had lunch earlier, for example—so Arthur forced himself to endure his company, even if he is growing even more annoyed by the second. He bought Lucius coffee after lunch in the hopes that all the food along with the coffee would somehow shut him up and induce a food coma, but then he realised that the caffeine is actually counterproductive to his plans.

Still, he tried to focus on their objective, and at least the emperor is good at talking if they needed to (the knowledge of fluent Japanese that the Grail gave him helps), although Arthur kept a close watch on him.

They stopped at a park, sometime in the mid-afternoon, and they sat on an empty bench, side-by-side. Arthur was glad for the chance to catch his breath, since they had been walking around the city for quite a bit, and he was glad, too, that Saber kept a little distance away from him. 

“There are quite a few of unusual things going around, according to the locals we’ve asked and the things we’ve read, and some of those might be the activities of a Servant, or a magus tied to one,” Saber’s tone is casual, unassuming, as he leaned back on his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He makes for a striking figure, Arthur thought, with the red hair and the amethyst eyes, which suits his rakish, bold personality, and the dark suit he wore underneath his long coat was a perfect match, not that Arthur would ever admit it, out loud or even just to himself. “What do you say, Master? Should we not go and check the most promising one? Perhaps we’ll find one of our quarries, and spill some blood.”

Lucius’ voice snapped him out from his reverie, and Arthur blushed a little remembering what he’d just thought about him, but he quickly pushed it all aside. He wouldn’t get involved personally with his Servant, in whatever manner.

“No, I think that’s quite enough for today,” Arthur said, glancing at him. He hoped that Saber doesn’t see his blush a moment ago. “We’ve gathered enough information. My spies can do the rest. We should go back and wait until someone makes the first move. We’ve attracted enough attention as it is.”

“Clearly not enough if nobody appeared,” Saber countered, and Arthur instinctively scowled, just a little, even if he tried so hard to restrain himself, remembering that he called him boring just the day before. “Say, Master. If we do run into another Servant, be it by chance or otherwise, what would you do?” 

It was another test, Arthur knows, another bait, from the way Lucius said it to the tilt of his head and the languid smile accompanying it. He took a moment to answer, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“We’ll see when it comes down to it,” he merely said, not giving the other man an opening to challenge him. “For now, we’ll go back and wait.”

“And be sitting ducks?” Both Saber’s tone and his expression was incredulous, but then he laughed. “Come on, Arthur, at least let’s go kill a few more hours. I’m bored. If you won’t let me fight anyone, then at least let me see what this era has to offer. We haven’t checked out the east part of town yet.”

He remembered a certain place that was located in the east side, from the map of Fuyuki that he’d seen earlier, and he couldn’t help but feel curious about it, although he won’t admit it. 

“Yes, I suppose we could go there for a bit,” Arthur grudgingly yielded, although he quickly regretted it, remembering that it means he had to endure Lucius’ company for a bit while longer. “But we should go back before sundown.”

“Fair enough,” Lucius accepted, with a grin, and Arthur looked away, feeling quite annoyed already, again. Silence fell between them, and Arthur was about to rise from his seat, not wanting to waste anymore time and just got this day over with already, but the other man spoke again. “You mentioned on the night before we leave for this city that your wish, or at least your family’s wish, is to reacquire Excalibur. But it couldn’t be all there is to it, isn’t it?” 

It was the question that Lucius had been wanting to ask on their dinner before their departure, and the one question that Arthur had been avoiding, although he really doesn’t feel the need to tell his Servant anything beyond what was necessary. At least he wasn’t beating around the bush this time around, Arthur thought, and, for some reason, the memory of the vague, recurring dream that he had this morning returned. With it, came the continuation of his thoughts earlier before Bedivere knocked on his door, about a dark-haired girl and days that felt like it happened in another life, to someone else—

“Everyone had a personal wish, especially considering the fact that the Grail could grant anything. When I was alive, I’ve had people begged me for riches, glory, honour. My citizens would pray for a good harvest, and they would make sacrifices to me alongside all the other gods. My provinces paid me tribute. When they are faced with something considerably more powerful than them that could be of use to them, human beings make their wishes known,” the emperor beside him continued, and Arthur could feel the force of his intense gaze on him, although he purposefully avoided it. “So, what it is for you, Arthur? What’s in this war for you? Was it glory?”

On the night before she left, they had sneaked out after curfew, upstairs to the room where his father kept a telescope and his tools to watch the movements of the stars. Arthur knows that she wasn’t allowed in there, but back then he still thought that he could bend the rules of secrecy, that someday things would change, at least for her, at least for them. 

“No, that wasn’t it,” he finally said, his tone betraying nothing. 

“No, I don’t suppose you are the type who would be after something like that. I don’t suppose you are after riches either, since you seem to already have enough,” Lucius observed, leaning closer to him. “Was it love?”

He had not the slightest clue where Saber gets this idea, but it hits him for a moment, and Arthur asked himself, briefly—_was it_—remembering all that he’d shared with her, and he thought that yes, perhaps it was, since he knew that he loved her as a friend and a brother would, even if they are not related by blood. But it doesn’t really matter now.

“No,” Arthur said, instead, his tone final. “You can speculate all you want, Saber. But that is all there is to it. I do not have any personal wish towards the Grail, and I want to put this matter to rest.”

There is a hidden warning in it, and Arthur was certain Lucius gets it, although, surprisingly, he saw something like pity flickered in the other man’s unusual eyes for a moment, but Arthur looked away, pretending that he didn’t notice anything.

“Let’s go,” Arthur rose from his seat, straightening himself up and smoothing his coat. “I do not want to waste anymore time.”  


* * *

Perhaps he had finally managed to shake some of his restlessness off, or perhaps the sights and the people they met along the way had managed to amuse and distract him, but either way, Saber was less troublesome on the second half of their journey, and Arthur could breathe a lot easier.

It actually felt more like an ordinary outing at this point, and Arthur allowed himself to indulge in the moment for a little. It had been a long while ever since he wandered about in a foreign city, and he humoured Saber for a bit, too—he asked if they could do something fun just to kill time for a bit and Arthur yielded, on the grounds that he doesn’t want Lucius to annoy him about it later, and he took him to an arcade—although all the time he still kept an eye out on anything unusual, and reminded himself that this was nothing personal, they are here for a reason, and they are not companions in any way either. Perhaps he did have fun, just a little, but not that he’d admit it. 

Still, the weight of their conversation in the park earlier lingers.

“We should be back before dark,” Arthur said, quickly shaking off the initial awe upon setting his sights on the seemingly infinite horizon. Their wandering had taken them to the shore, the beach that he remembered seeing on the map earlier, the one place that had secretly captured his imagination. “I don’t quite know what we’re doing here.”

“We’re surveying the battlefield, remember? I think this counts,” he could sense the other man, following him, stopping just a little behind him. There was silence for a moment, and Arthur turned slightly to face him, about to tell him that they should get going, but he stopped upon seeing the sudden contemplative look on Lucius’ face. “It felt strange to see the ocean again,” he remarked, a small smile playing on his lips, and his gaze was distant. “No, I suppose everything felt strange now. This new body…this era, the people, the food. It’s not quite like being alive again, but at the same time it is. Even seeing the ocean felt different.”

Arthur was quite unsure of what to say about this, and he looked at Lucius for a moment, uncertainly, and he doesn’t really want to say anything, in line with what he believed about Servants and their relationship, but perhaps he had too much things to tell and no one to tell them to, because the words slipped out of his mouth before he could realise it.

“I don’t think I’ve been to a beach like this before,” he said, briefly thinking back to his childhood and adolescent days. “I’ve seen the ocean before, of course, and my father took me to this city once, when I was a child, but we did not visit this place. We— I just don’t have time for such a frivolous use of time, since I spent most of my days studying Magecraft growing up, and my father was very strict besides. I don’t really go out much,” perhaps it was the violent, reddish late afternoon light, Arthur thought, the sun slowly sinking below the horizon as darkness is taking over, it was what made him so loose with himself and his true feelings. Another memory flashed by, this time of a promise. “But I made a promise with my adopted sister that we were going to go to the beach together someday. That was a dream we shared.”

“Then that dream had come true, isn’t it?” Lucius’ remark took him by surprise, and Arthur tried to read his expression, searching for any ill intentions there, but he couldn’t find any. “Look,” Lucius moved closer, the ghost of a touch on his shoulders, turning him towards the ocean. “The ocean is right there. You’re standing at the shore. Is this not your childhood dream made manifest, Arthur?”

He thought that his pulse raced faster for a moment when Lucius touched his shoulders, and the other man’s proximity doesn’t help, but he kept his gaze fixed on the ocean, and kept his cool. 

“It’s not quite what I envisioned it to be,” Arthur kept his tone light, unassuming, although he had to admit that, at least momentarily, his heart doesn’t quite feel like a haunted house anymore, as it had been for the past five years. “Though it’s not bad. And just this time, perhaps you were right.”

“Just this time?” The emperor sounded quite smug, still, as he often is, but this time, Arthur could let it slide. “Very well, I accept this. The games at the arcade were fun, but now that we’re here, we should probably do something more.”

“What did you—“ Arthur begins, genuinely confused, but Lucius grabbed his arm and pulled them closer to the waves. “If you’re thinking of going swimming, you’re crazy, and you should let me go—“

“Oh, relax, Master,” his Servant grinned, but lets go of his arm. “We’re not going to the extremes. I won’t dirty your nice designer suit. Well, perhaps just a little. We haven’t really been to the ocean yet if we don’t get at least a little wet, right?”

“I see that you are actually a ten-year old on the inside, Emperor Lucius Tiberius,” was all that Arthur could muster, flustered as he was, and, he felt even more flustered when the other man shrugged off his coat and started rolling his sleeves. Arthur felt like he should say something more and stop him, but it felt a little like watching an addict made a big bet at the casino—he was too amused and at the same time somewhat concerned that he couldn’t stop him.

“And I have no idea that you have something that resembles a sense of humour. Perhaps I should help you,” Arthur felt just the tiniest pang of regret in his decision to summon him when Lucius stepped closer and—his heart skipped a beat and he held his breath—he took his left hand into his, gentler than Arthur thought possible from someone like him, and slowly peeled off his glove, sliding the fabric off his fingers. “You’re going to need your hands if you want to pay me back after I’ll get you wet.”

“I—“ Arthur started, but the words caught in his throat, and his heart felt frantic, like a trapped bird, especially since Lucius was still holding his hand. He opened his mouth again, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks, but the other man beats him to it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you, since you are my Master, or at least, you are going to be, once you prove that you are worthy,” Lucius laughed, and Arthur felt his blush deepening, but evidently, that wasn’t the end of it—he truly wondered what was going on in the mind of his Servant, especially since he thought that they don’t like each other—since the emperor brought his left hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it, where his Command Spells was engraved. “This is to seal the promise, that I won’t play too hard with you in the water.”

Arthur felt relieved when Lucius released his hand, the other man’s gaze only lingering momentarily on the distinct, coiled pattern etched there, since he doesn’t know if he could feel even more flustered or embarrassed than he is at this moment, and he, too, felt relieved that his Servant did not say anything about the redness of his cheeks. It was all very ridiculous, and he abhors this kind of ridiculous nonsense. He already braced himself for the upcoming similar theatrics with his right hand, and he thought that he was going to stop him this time.

“But I wonder about one thing, Arthur,” Lucius’ tone was suddenly serious, and Arthur looked at him, curiously, the ever-darkening dying light casting shadows on his face, the fiery hue from the sinking sun complimenting the colour of his hair. “You’re all that’s left, aren’t you? What happened to the sister you mentioned?”

The question snapped him out from the moment in the sunset—from the bubble that surrounded them at that time—back towards reality, like a wave carrying him back into the shore, dashing him there, and the sudden clarity of it felt cold, almost as cruel as the light in his dreams. 

She was gone. And even if their shared dream had, in a way, came true, even if he finally got to live in it, short-lived as it may be, he was not here with her, but with someone else, someone who’s barely alive, but a phantom from the past, a shadow of someone who used to be. He felt a chill, suddenly, and he pulled on his coat, as if that could protect him from the emptiness he felt all of a sudden. 

“She’s gone,” Arthur flatly said, although a part of him didn’t believe that, still, even after all these years. “But it’s none of your concern. Please hand me back my glove, Saber. We’re leaving.”

Perhaps his Servant was disappointed, or perhaps he had even hurt him even if just a little, although Lucius’ expression was hard to read, but Arthur doesn’t care. Servants are merely a tool for a magus to win the Grail, and Lucius’ feelings are none of his concern, especially since they did got off the wrong foot. The arguments they’ve had are still fresh on his mind, and a single moment like this one—perhaps a ridiculous folly on both of their part—could not change his opinion of him.

“If that is what you want,” Lucius extended his hand, and Arthur took the glove from him, slipping it back on. Then his Servant shifted his gaze, in the direction of the container port, and Arthur immediately understood. “I think someone finally picked up our invitation, Master. Why don’t we go and greet them?”

His smile was cocky, with only the slightest hint of bloodlust, but Arthur remained composed, regarding him coolly.

“Yes, after all, we have to greet our guests,” he already run the possibilities in his mind, including possible strategies, forgetting what had just transpired between them momentarily. This was, of course, not what he had planned, but Arthur had indeed considered the possibility of another Servant showing up. “Let’s go, Saber.”

The emperor seemed all too happy to oblige, already throwing his coat back on carelessly, and the deepening twilight embraced them as they made their way towards the location where they both had detected the other Servant’s presence—a strong concentration of mana, almost like a small-scale storm—leaving the ocean behind them.

Very soon, the war will begin in earnest.


	6. first blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Servant appeared, seemingly out of the blue: Lancer. While Lancer and Saber fight, Arthur tried to figure out the true identity of the mysterious woman and her Master. Yet, after Lancer withdraws, another figure appeared...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you bored at me for updating every three days or so lol. I'm done writing the beginning in my progress draft, and soon I'm gonna start with...the middle of this story. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty hard to write, but someone we all know and love will make an appearance at the end. Enjoy!

The shadows had lengthened when they arrived at the container port, although the purplish sky is still darkening rapidly. They exchange no more words along the way. Arthur felt tense, but he could feel that his Servant doesn’t share that feeling, if anything, Lucius seemed more excited than tense, although his excitement was dangerous, like a forest fire that could barely be contained. More than anything, Arthur understood the number of ways in which things could go south—the chaotic, boastful nature of his Servant being the cause of some, if not most of them—but there was no avoiding a battle.

Everything looked deceptive in the liminality of the deepening twilight, and the dormant containers seemed to hide a number of secrets, or possible enemies.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, although the silence—save for both of their breathing and footsteps—is suffocating, and Arthur had stopped for a moment when they rounded a corner, when the attack comes out seemingly out of the blue. The chains that comes to his direction from above moved too fast for a human to grasp, although his instincts had moved his body to avoid it, but it was still too fast—

A loud, metallic clang rings out as sword meets chain, and another one appeared, trying to strike from the side, but again, the emperor easily matched the speed of the unknown assailant and deflected the blow. The chains seemed to rust when his sword meets them, and melted away.

“I’m not a big fan of cowards,” Lucius declared, although casually, already in his armour, his characteristic long coat billowing behind him. He stood in front of Arthur, his stance just as deceptively casual, although the way that he held himself and his sword indicated that he was more than ready to deflect another blow should it comes to that. “There is no glory to be had when you fight like a rat. If you show yourself, I might be inclined to show some mercy and make your death less painful than it is going to be, after you had the audacity to attack my Master.”

A brief, tense silence passed, and Arthur glanced around, trying to pinpoint where the unknown assailant might have strike from, his mind racing with speculations, but a low, smoky female laugh interrupted his train of thoughts, and his gaze instinctively followed the sound of the voice to its source.

She was standing on top of one of the piled containers not too far from where they are standing, a dark, hooded figure, one that seemed to be taken straight out of a story, or even a nightmare. She carried something that seemed to be a scythe, wrapped in the chains that they had seen earlier.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” both the hood and the dark hid her face and expression well, but Arthur could hear the ghost of a smile in her voice. “It seems my invitation was well-received, and what a nice surprise it is, to get two for the price of one,” he could feel her gaze on him, the weight of it very much like her unnatural presence: a dark, hateful storm. “Since you bring your Master along with you, Saber, perhaps _I_ will make your death less painful than it is going to be. Tell me, which one of you wants to die first?”

“A Lancer-class Servant,” Arthur told Lucius, lowering his voice, though he kept his gaze on her. “I can’t read her parameters just yet. Do not let her bait you into attacking first. Let her come to us.”

“You fight like a rat, and you made a mistake just as your vile kind would. _I_ extended this invitation to you, Lancer, generous as I am, not the other way around. If you really are confident that you can defeat a god, then why don’t you come down and find out?” the emperor does not acknowledge his order, but Arthur could tell that he understood, from what he said to Lancer, though he felt vaguely annoyed that Lucius blatantly ignored him. He pushed his personal feelings aside, though, and he took a step forward, trying to get a better look at the enemy, but his Servant pushed him back without really looking at him. “Stay back, Master. This is a fight between Servants, and you shouldn’t get in our way. Find someplace safe to hide, cast your spells, I don’t care, just stay out of the way.”

“_You’re_ not the one giving orders,” Arthur argued, hotly, but he tried to keep his voice down, still, glancing at Lancer, watching if she makes a move. “She’s not alone, I know her Master, too, must be somewhere in the vicinity, and I can’t find them if I’m not here.”

“Then just move back—“ 

Lancer leaped and strike again, her chains moving too fast for human eyes to follow, and Arthur felt himself being shoved aside as Lucius deflected her attack and he counted one, two, three follow-up blows but the emperor’s sword was there to block the chains every time. 

“Not bad, although you mistook a snake for a rat,” she landed gracefully, not too far from them, her chains rattling. Arthur straightened himself, quickly, eyeing her warily. She emitted danger, albeit of a different sort from his own Servant. She was something more like pure chaos, malice in form of a woman. “And you say you are a god? I cannot think of many Heroic Spirits who fit that description. But if you really are what you proclaim to be, then I should be more than a match for you, as one who used to be a goddess.”

She barely finished speaking when Lucius lunged forward, and this time the mysterious woman was the one on the defensive, her scythe meeting his divine sword, and Arthur held his breath when he saw her chain snaking around his ankle, but he slashed it just in time. It was hard not to be enthralled by their fight. When they exchanged a couple more opening blows, it felt more like a dance than a fight, the mysterious woman graceful and deadly just like the snake she claimed to be, while the emperor matched her blow by blow, more formidable than graceful, like a bear, his black-and-red coat complimenting his powerful silhouette well. But Arthur forced himself to look away for a moment, tearing his gaze from the battle, trying to detect any other life-form in the immediate area, specifically any signs of another Master. 

It was in vain, though he hasn’t given up. He had another plan in mind, and he shifted his gaze back to the scene still unfolding in front of him. Saber is on the offence again, hounding her with powerful blows, but Lancer doesn’t seem to be fazed, still matching him in the deadly dance, trying to overwhelm and catch him off guard with her chains at the same time.

“Do not waste too much energy on her, Saber,” Arthur ordered, pouring every inch of command he possessed into his words, his gaze flicking from Saber’s back to Lancer’s still-hidden face. “She must have been a minor deity, if at all, considering how much boasting she needs in order to try and convince us. She is just going to be a hassle, a pest.”

“Ah, but if we take out a pest early in the game, Master, she would not be a thorn on our side later on,” Lucius countered, but languidly, although he kept his sword raised and his stance ready, gaze still fixed on Lancer, back to Arthur. “Still, if you only want me to play with her this time around, I suppose I can grant you that.”

Arthur was trying to get a rise out of her, to get her to drop another hint about her identity, but she doesn’t take it, although she strikes again, and Lucius met her halfway. 

“Saber is right, you _are_ a coward,” Arthur observed, raising his voice just a little so she could hear him amidst the clash of scythe, chains and sword, gaze following her movements. She is a lithe one underneath the cloak that she wore to disguise the rest of her, and he racked his mind trying to figure out her identity from her appearance and what she’d divulged about herself so far, but nothing rings a bell as of yet. “On second thought, perhaps I should let him be as rough as necessary with you, and make you beg for your life, Lancer.”

“You talk so much for someone who’s about to die,” she said, and her chains surged forward alongside her. Saber had anticipated them, but, at the very last moment, her chains change directions, heading towards Arthur instead, while she dodged Saber, leaping to the side gracefully, having the advantage of speed. It happened in a fraction of a second: the cold metal wrapping itself around his arm, lighter than he thinks but still as strong, and she was already dragging him forward, even if he resisted. He wasn’t going to depend on Saber, he was already prepared to release a Gandr shot with his free hand, even if he knows that it probably won’t even give her a scratch, but he saw something, not just the glint of her scythe, but a glimpse of her eyes, he recognised the peculiarity of her eyes—

“That is quite enough, Lancer. Release him,” a calm, young female voice interrupted, out of nowhere. “I did not order you to kill the Master just yet. You should have kept Saber occupied.”

As if on cue, Saber strikes the chain that binds Arthur to Lancer—it rusted and vanished like before—and the blow that follows it was raw, lethal, and although Lancer managed to deflect it, Arthur could tell that it was a close call, and the force of it pushed her back, hard, leaving a long, deep gash on the ground. 

“You really should start listening to your Master and keep your hands off what’s not yours, Lancer,” Lucius said, the snarl in it barely suppressed, and pulled Arthur to his feet. “As for you, Master, you really should stop getting in our way,” the emperor shot him a disapproving glance, but Arthur paid him no heed.

“You can’t keep your pest of a Servant under control, and you won’t show yourself, either,” Arthur dusted himself, noticing that his sleeve had been ripped near the elbow where Lancer’s chain had wrapped itself earlier, but he doesn’t pay it much attention—if there was pain, he barely felt it since it was a glancing blow at best, and he only glimpsed minor bruising—since he had a much bigger priority that he was after right now. “Do you think that if Lancer kept Saber occupied for long enough, you would have enough time to finish your spellcasting, so that you could kill me? An interesting thought, but not good enough in execution.”

“No, I would have no need for such a thing. My trait would allow me to finish my spell instantly and kill you the moment I wished it to be,” the girl’s voice responded, almost eerie in its youth, and Arthur subtly tried to find the source, but he couldn’t find or detect any yet. She must have been using some sort of device to speak to them while she positioned herself some distance away. “I merely wanted to find out just how strong your Servant would be, in battle. Your decision to go out in the city today without any sort of disguise was a foolish one. But, I suppose that was why your family lost the important thing you had been entrusted with.”

“What a childish insult. I suppose you must be the Einzbern Master,” he replied, coldly, realising that, once more, Saber and Lancer are sizing each other up, their stances ready for battle. “I am not at all surprised that this is your idea of playtime. After all, you are merely a child, and barely human.”

“You call me a child, but perhaps you do realise that you are the one who sounded like one, Saber’s Master? Or should I say, Arthur Pendragon?” She laughed, girlishly, but there was a certain kind of cruelty to it. 

“Say the word, Master, and I’ll finish her,” Saber cuts in, roughly, his gaze fixed on Lancer opposite them. “Well, this one first, and then her Master.”

“I’d love to play some more with you, Saber, but that will be all this time around,” Lancer’s Master said, before Arthur could say anything to his Servant. “Withdraw, Lancer. If you disobey me, I will use a Command Spell on you.”

“Understood, Master,” Lancer doesn’t sound at all glad, although her hood still kept her expression hidden. “I will be taking my leave, but understand this: the next time we meet, Saber, I will surely kill you.”

She vanished, seemingly melting into the night, yet her foul aura lingers for a while. A Servant’s presence is already unnatural, but something about her reeks of corruption. Arthur thought that the Einzberns must be desperate enough, that they perhaps had tried to tamper with a Heroic Spirit’s Spirit Origin in some manner, if that was indeed the case.

And he recognised the peculiarity of Lancer’s eyes.

Silence, once more, reigns in the deserted port.

Lucius turned around to face him, and Arthur already opened his mouth, about to say something, but the other man cuts him off.

“What were _you_ thinking, Arthur? You are well aware that you are no match for a Servant, since you told me that I have not a shred of idea on the scale of chaos that we could wreck, and yet you provoke one so willingly, in my presence,” Lucius fumed, but Arthur was not fazed, calmly meeting his furious gaze. “I would have thought that you would not be so reckless, or so eager to court your own death.”

“You say that, but you should really be taking the advice that you give to Lancer, that you should listen to your Master,” Arthur retorted, trying to keep his growing irritation under wraps. “You strike without consulting me first. Are you sure you are not the reckless one here?”

“I was trying to keep her away from you,” Lucius argued, scowling at him. “Besides, even if I call you that, I still yet to officially acknowledge you as my Master.”

“Then why do you imply to Lancer that I’m…” Arthur felt himself twitch at the thought, but he forced the words out. “…yours, in any capacity? And earlier, at the beach—“

“Just shut up and show me your arm, Arthur,” the emperor commanded, and Arthur wasn’t about to oblige, but Lucius seized his arm, not as roughly as he assumed he would be, but Lucius’ grip was firm, and he studied his arm for a moment. 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Arthur tried to pull his arm away from his grasp, but Lucius was stronger than him. “A simple healing spell should suffice when we get back. It’s just a bruise. I’m fine, Saber.”

Lucius doesn’t look convinced, but his grip slackens for a bit, and that was enough for Arthur to pull his arm away. This sudden display of concern and the underlying overprotectiveness felt baffling to him—and he does not know yet what to think or how to feel about Lucius declaring that he was his, especially combined with what had transpired earlier, at the beach—and Arthur does not want to deal with it for a moment longer. They got off the wrong foot, they don’t like each other, and they were only putting up with each other because they have a deal and a contract. That was all there is to it, he thought, and it was absolutely ridiculous to think otherwise, not to mention that he does not want to be emotionally involved with his Servant in any way.

Before any of them could say anything more, however, Arthur detected another anomaly, another Servant, and he knows Lucius had caught on, too, since he quickly swept his gaze around the area, Florent on the ready. 

“It appears I have missed the initial party,” a figure materialised not far from them, on top of another container, this time of a man. “No matter. Now that I am here, I shall allow my brilliance to liven up this dismal place.”


	7. radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancer and her Master had withdrew from the battle, but another mysterious Servant appeared. He and Saber gets ready to fight, while Arthur tried to find a way to extract himself and his battle-hungry Servant from this situation that's spinning out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to update since I'm making pretty good progress with this fic but now that our glorious <strike>stupid</strike> Emperor had a voice and a very sexy one at that (jfc Hosoya) I just HAVE to commemorate this somehow. This is...a pretty short chapter but it'll lead to more interesting things! I planned lots of interesting things for our two idiots.
> 
> Enjoy! <strike>and please save me I'm even more Lucithur shipping trash now pleasE SAVE ME</strike>

The battle between Saber and Lancer earlier had been small in scale, very much contained, even if he was afraid that it was going to be otherwise, considering Saber’s character, but one Servant’s presence is already like a bright, inviting beacon to those who can detect such an anomaly, two is certainly more than enough to attract trouble.

Arthur was not quite surprised when he saw the new Servant appear, seemingly out of nowhere.

This one was vastly different from Lancer in terms of appearance. Where the mysterious woman was dark in manners and speech, and her true identity shrouded by the hood and the cloak she wears, the man who appeared before them has an innate radiance that commanded attention the moment he entered the scene. He has a regal bearing, Arthur thought, in a different way than Lucius is—the emperor was, in some ways, more warrior than ruler—and, it was hard to read his gaze, from this distance and angle, but perhaps his eyes could be warm, like the molten rays of the sun itself, in a different time, a different era.

“Are you perhaps so paralysed by my radiance that neither of you had it in you to speak?” The man speaks again, scoffing lightly, hands crossed over his bared chest. “It is the norm to be stunned in the presence of a pharaoh, especially the incarnation of the sun itself such as I, however, I will allow you to speak.”

“I do not need your permission to speak,” Lucius sounded more amused than infuriated, but Arthur instinctively knows that this is going to be trouble, and he glanced at his Servant, trying to determine what he is going to do next. “You barged in late, and you have not the slightest idea who you are dealing with? As emperor, I—“

“Rider,” Arthur cuts him off, taking a step forward. He knows that Lucius shot him a dirty if not annoyed look, but he doesn’t really care. “I do not know your true purpose of being here, but if it is a battle you seek, it is over already. Lancer’s Master had commanded her to withdraw.”

“And what about it?” Rider glanced at him with a subtle tilt of his chin, still looking down at them. “Must a pharaoh repeat himself? I told you that I will allow my brilliance to liven up this pitiful, miserable place. I have seen enough of this city and the fool who tried to call herself my Master to pass my judgement on both. There is no true entertainment to be had, and her ineptitude and blatant disrespect was most offensive to me. Why should I not just destroy this place along with both of you to make up for the boredom and idiocy that I was forced to endure?”

“What you are merely trying to say is that you are bored, Rider,” Lucius said, and Arthur could tell that he was suppressing his laugh. He glanced again, warily, at his Servant, then at Rider, uncertain of how the latter is going to take it. “I must say that you are not the only one. I have forced myself to endure the tedium of this place and era as well, although I must say that I do not find it all to be as bad or as distasteful as you are. And this one—“ Arthur felt Lucius’ grip on his arm, pulling him back roughly, and he shot him a look of disbelief, opening his mouth to argue, but the emperor continued. “Well, I suppose he tried. In another time, perhaps we could relieve our boredom together, but as it stands, I have to keep my word to my Master, and we shall fight. At least it will relieve some of my own boredom.”

“Hmph. It was bold of you to assume that I would allow yourself to enjoy my company, or do battle with me, for that matter, Saber,” the man who proclaimed himself pharaoh remarked haughtily, and for a moment, Arthur thought that he was going to open fire, but instead, he smiled. “Very well. I suppose you are worthy to know in whose presence you are standing. I am the God King himself, the incarnation of Ra, the King of Kings. Rejoice, for you are standing in the presence of Ozymandias, the greatest of all pharaohs.”

“Finally. A worthy opponent,” Saber sounded satisfied, and Arthur felt his initial bad feeling grow into something worse, like witnessing a dark cloud gathering in the distance and knowing that a storm is coming, or a moment before disaster strikes. “We shall see if you are as worthy in battle as you claimed to be. Prepare yourself, King of Kings…for you are facing none other than Lucius Tiberius, and my enemies fear me as the Sword Emperor for a very good reason.”

“That is quite enough,” Arthur interjected, before they could start their fight, giving his Servant an exasperated look. “Thank you for enlightening us with the introduction, Saber. Rider, Pharaoh Ozymandias…” he shifted his gaze to the regal figure still looking down at them, trying to gauge his reaction. “Yes. I recognised your name, and the distinguished mark you left on history. However, if we must fight, might you not grant me answer to a pressing question beforehand?”

“I am still speaking to the Emperor, magus,” Rider replied, his tone laced with icy displeasure, and the look in his eyes, when their gaze met, matched his tone. “You should know better than to interrupt a conversation between two monarchs. Nevertheless, I am not incapable of mercy, and, generous as I am, I will grant you the answer you seek. Ask your question. Make it quick.”

“You mentioned your Master earlier,” Arthur met his gaze head-on, coolly. This one evidently wanted him to grovel, but he will not give him that, although he kept his tone neutral, tactful. “Was not her lineage distinguished enough for a great pharaoh like you to accept her as your Master?”

He knows that Lucius is itching to be let loose at him, but it was Arthur’s turn to place a hand on his arm, silently telling him to stay his hand for the time being.

“I suppose the question is not merely about her lineage, but about her capabilities as a magus, as well,” the God King’s gaze was as piercing as a sudden ray of light, and he uncrossed his arms. “Although I do not particularly care about her, or the family name she bears. I nearly incinerated her the moment she summoned me into this war. Perhaps she thinks that her proficiency with her jewels would impress me. It is not. But no matter. I have done enough talking, and I will permit you to witness the brilliance of my Ramesseum before I finish you off. Behold the radiance of the pharaohs, Roman Emperor.”

“And you shall witness the true power of my divine sword, blessed by a goddess,” Saber lifted his sword, his stance ready for battle, his smile just as cocky and deadly as Arthur had predicted. 

Before Arthur could say anything, Rider laughed, a booming sound that matched all the haughtiness he’d shown them, every bit as imperious as the mark he’d left in history, and he summoned a majestic blue-and-gold staff. He lifted his staff—a gesture that was as enthralling as it was lethal—and it felt as if daylight had suddenly dawned, and he felt himself being pulled along roughly, as Saber evaded the incinerating blow that Rider had unleashed upon them. Arthur had seen the deep gash that Lancer had left earlier on the ground, after Lucius’ savage blow, but he saw that Rider’s attack had wrought an even worse devastation, as the space they were standing in earlier were completely destroyed, incinerated to cinders. He could see that fire is still burning in some of the unfortunate containers that had stood near them, the smoke slowly rising into the air, the smell of burning metal filling the air. 

“Tch, I can’t fight with you like this,” Lucius’ grip was an iron vise, and Arthur doesn’t appreciate in the slightest being manhandled by him, but he understood that, should the emperor was a moment too late, they would have been ash. “Just give me the permission to release my Noble Phantasm, Master, and I would burn him to cinders instead with the lightning from my sword.”

Their conversation was cut short with the roar of another blow from Rider, and the blinding light reminded him of something, his eyes widening, but Saber roughly pulled him to his arms and draped him over one shoulder hurriedly, like he weigh nothing at all, leaping out from harm’s way, and the pharaoh released another lethal blow afterwards, hisbooming laugh resounded above the din of his deadly lightshow. 

“Is that really all you can do, Emperor? You talked a good game, yet here we are. You have barely done anything remotely interesting,” Rider taunted, and Arthur gritted his teeth.

“No, I will _not_ give you permission, and you should really put me down,” he told Lucius before the emperor could do anything foolish like dashing headlong into Rider’s proximity. “We just fought Lancer. We’re going back, whether you like it or not. We need to get out of here.”

It was hard to talk to him in this position, slung over Lucius’ shoulder as he is, and he felt heat rising into his cheeks, though he kept his composure.

“If I put you down, you’ll die,” Lucius countered, and that was all that he could say, since Rider hounded them with another blow, and Arthur tried to think of an escape route, but the brilliance of the light brings back a memory, although both are not quite the same—

The light consumes everything, mercilessly, but he heard another loud crash, and even if he couldn’t see what happened, he could detect the presence, the abnormal surge of mana.

“What is this? I have not given you permission to join us,” Rider’s haughty, somewhat bored voice rings out, and Arthur felt his heart racing faster. Rider was bad news enough, especially considering the fact that they’d just survived an encounter with Lancer and her Master, but another one…

There were more sounds of destruction, and the light comes alive once more, but not aimed at them this time, although his Servant still leaped out of harm’s way, putting quite a considerable distance between what sounded like another battle in progress.

“It seems like Berserker had found his way here,” Lucius said, all too casual for Arthur’s liking, but he was grateful that at least the emperor had the decency to reposition him, and, although Arthur still doesn’t like being manhandled by him, or being tucked into his arms like a bride, at least now he can scowl at him directly. “I hope this is better. What do you want to do now, Master?”

Arthur had to bit back a sarcastic remark, since he knows that time is of the essence now, and offending Lucius would not help.

“This is our chance, while Rider is distracted,” Arthur said, trying not to think about his proximity with Lucius, fixing his gaze on his. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You want me to miss a thrilling fight with two fine opponents, one of which is the King of Kings, but I suppose I have to oblige this time,” Lucius doesn’t look at all pleased, but at least he’s not objecting. “Only because we have a deal, Artorius. And you are quite injured besides. I suggest you hold on tight.”

Arthur very reluctantly wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, telling himself mentally this is purely out of necessity and that he doesn’t want to fall down while they made their escape, and Lucius let out something that sounded like an amused laugh. He had no time to respond, much less think about it, since they are already moving at inhumanly fast speed, the wind whipping around them, as his Servant carried him past the port and deeper, back into the city.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Rider’s light, and another, one that haunted him in his dreams.


	8. escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius and Arthur, having managed to escape from the fight with Rider after Berserker crashed the party, found a place to hide temporarily. Arthur revealed the trump card that he was holding, but the wound from Lancer is no ordinary wound…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so behind from my writing progress but! On the bright side, I can really promise that more good things are coming, including but not limited to biker Lucius, fake relationship, and _plenty_ of UST in the near future. We are getting there. Please bear with me.
> 
> Current progress: 13/35 chapters complete. Projected chapters might change since I do merge short chapters and add stuff.
> 
> Enjoy!

The lights of the city glitters under the dark shroud of the evening sky, as he raced past the buildings, Arthur in his arms, the sounds of Rider and Berserker’s fight fading as the scenery changed from the port and the quiet houses near the bay to the tall, smoky buildings of the city proper. In this body, as a Heroic Spirit, he could easily leap to the top of the nearest building, and from one rooftop to another, a different sort of thrill from the one that a battle offers. 

In that sense, he supposed their escape wasn’t so bad, although Lucius knows that his Master would probably complain later about the lack of discretion on his part, but he did not particularly care in the slightest, since his priority was to make sure that they were gone far enough before Rider or Berserker or any other Servants who might make an appearance could catch up with them.

The magus, at least, had been quiet, although he did request that they found someplace else to catch their breath instead of heading straight back into the house. This was only slightly puzzling, but Lucius had no direct objection and thus, he obliged.

The air smelled a little like smoke here, a distinctive, polluted quality that was present in abundance back in London, although it wasn’t quite so bad here, and the night stretches on, unchallenged, over the glittering tapestry of the city. Arthur had finally told him to stop, and Lucius did, atop one of the tall buildings that seemed to be either an office or an apartment.

Arthur released his neck, and he sets him down on his feet. 

“It’s really quite a shame that I had to abandon the fight with Rider, since I have found a worthy opponent,” Lucius said, after a short silence, in which he observed as Arthur made his way to the railing not far from they landed, resting his hands on it and looked out into the scenery that was laid out before them, from this vantage point. He followed him, languidly, the adrenaline rush from the fights and their escape slowly fading away. “If I did not remember that we had a deal, I would not have obliged. You owe it to make it up to me, Master.”

“Can you not put your immense ego to rest for just a moment and focus on the big picture, Saber?” Arthur chided him, coldly, turning slightly to face him. “This is only the beginning. We should pick our battles carefully, and not lose sight of our objective. For that matter, do you sense any more Servants?”

“No,” Lucius answered, taken just a little bit off-guard by the imperious tone. Arthur had given him orders before (which he considered as requests since he hadn’t quite acknowledged the magus as his Master) but this one was different—he could see himself in it, in his capacity as a ruler—and, with the city spread out before him, Lucius felt as if he was talking to another king instead of a mere human magus. “I can confirm that we had left Rider and Berserker behind, and that I do not sense either of their presence any more. No other Servants around detected either, Master.”

“Neither can I detect other Masters, although they might conceal themselves,” Arthur glanced around, distractedly, and Lucius could sense some wariness behind it. “I ordered you not to take us on a direct path home and stopped here because I suspect we will be followed, and I am not just talking about Rider and Berserker, or even Lancer’s Master, for that matter. All of you aren’t exactly subtle when you fight earlier, especially Rider, and I know for certain that others must have sent in their own spies to observe us. You do understand the necessity to keep the location of our base secret, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Are you saying that I’m stupid?” Lucius laughed, amusedly, although he meant to tease Arthur more than anything remotely serious, especially in light of recent events. He really do think that the magus was full of surprises, and he expected Arthur to scold him again, or to try and insult him, but the other man fell silent. Lucius tried to read his expression, and his gaze fell on his arm. “Is there something wrong, Master?”

Arthur’s sleeve had been ripped near the elbow when Lancer caught his arm in her chains, even through his coat, and he could see that the magus immediately followed his gaze, but he moved said arm aside, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Arthur told him, leaning lightly on the railing behind him. “You should direct your attention to other things, Saber. I noticed something about Lancer earlier, when she attacked me. I could not get a clear look just yet, but her eyes could only be Mystic Eyes, although I could not tell its true properties just yet.”

“Yes, that is certainly vital information, but there is something more pressing here,” Lucius doesn’t wait for permission, and took a step closer to him so he could see his arm again, but Arthur shifted and positioned it behind him, giving him a small scowl. “If there’s nothing to worry about, then you would not so obviously try to hide your arm from me, isn’t it?”

“No, but—“ Arthur tried to object, but Lucius took another step closer, and although the scowl on his face deepened, he reluctantly brought his arm forward. “Fine. I know you’re going to continue pestering me until I yield, and I suppose you need to know about this.”

He looked absolutely serious, and Lucius moved closer, taking his arm in his hand again, as gently as he could. Arthur’s sleeve had indeed been ripped, down to the dress shirt he wore underneath his suit coat and outerwear on top of that, and the light reddish bruise that he had seen earlier before Rider entered the scene had not only deepened into a deep purple colour, but the small cut that was there had also started to bleed and looked more like a gash than a glancing cut. In fact, there was something almost disconcerting about the bruise around it. There was a vaguely greyish quality to it, as if the skin was flaking off, or turning to stone.

“You really should leave the rushing headlong into battle thing to me, Artorius,” Lucius shook his head, giving him a stern look. He still wasn’t quite sure of what to think of his supposed Master, but their time together at the city and what transpired during the fights had offered him some insights into Arthur’s character. “This doesn’t look good. I swear I’ll cut off that snake woman’s head the next time we run into each other.”

“…yes, I suppose this could be a problem,” Arthur reluctantly admitted, after a moment of silence, not meeting his gaze. “I only have theories so far about Lancer’s true identity, and I have not a clear clue just yet about the properties of her chains either, but—“ he met Lucius’ unflinching gaze, evidently hesitating, “—whatever it is, I’m slowly losing feeling of my arm, and it drained my magical energy faster than your theatrics.”

Lucius was quite used to Arthur’s characteristic jabs by now, and he let it slide, as he looked at the wound again. He doesn’t quite care about Arthur in particular, he thought, everything up to this point—including the scene at the beach—had been something born out of boredom and the desire for amusement, since the magus was fun to tease, but this concerns him, too, and he could feel the slow mana leakage, since he was on the receiving end of it. Even if he doesn’t particularly liked the thought of having a Master, Arthur was the only thing that anchored his Spirit Origin to this world, his mana the one that binds together his material body and kept it that way, and Lucius certainly doesn’t feel like going back to the Throne of Heroes prematurely.

“Stay still,” Lucius commanded, his tone brooks no argument, and, before Arthur could protest, he ripped the rest of Arthur’s coat sleeve, and looped it around the wound, binding it. “This will have to do for the moment. It should staunch the bleeding temporarily. We should start making our way back to the house now, Master, before you lose more mana or blood.”

“No, it’s still too risky,” Arthur quietly countered. “We should wait a little while longer. I’ll be fine, Saber.”

“I won’t be able to carry you home if you lost too much mana, you know, so you should stop it with the stoic act,” Lucius scoffed, checking the makeshift bandage before releasing Arthur’s arm. “You’re welcome. You’re more stubborn than I thought, Artorius. Perhaps I could eventually accept you as my Master, but you’re still on probation for now. I suppose I have some respect for you now, but just a little,” he smirked, crossing his arms on his chest. “Maybe you really are a true Pendragon, like the sacred sword wielder back then. But you still need to remember that we Heroic Spirits are still very much stronger than you, and you know that you are still no match for us even with your spells and trinkets. Of course, the sacred sword could change the game, even if no ordinary human magus could normally wield it, but you said that you’ve lost it already, haven’t you?"

“Thank you for your concern, Emperor, and I suppose I should also thank you for—“ Arthur glanced at his bandaged arm, and perhaps for a moment he blushed, lightly, although his tone remained cold, and Lucius found himself suppressing a grin. “—this, and I do not remember asking you to change my name to your more preferred Latin form, but perhaps it is time for me to point out that I am not as helpless as you make me seem to be. Do you not think I do not have a backup plan or two, in case things go awry?” Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “And my family may have lost Excalibur, but it is not the only Divine Construct that we possessed, no.”

“You are saying you have something else up your sleeve, on par with the sacred sword,” Lucius remarked, observing him closely. “Don’t you perhaps think that you should have mentioned it to me sooner so I did not have to babysit you so during the battle?”

“In my possession is the sacred lance Rhongomyniad,” Arthur revealed, albeit with some hesitation, lowering his voice slightly. He lifted his hand—the non-injured one—and brought out the cross-shaped pendant that he had been wearing, concealed under the collar of his dress shirt. “Though this is not something I can use on a whim.”

“Ah, it would certainly change the game,” the knowledge that had been imparted to him by the Grail gave him only the perfunctory information about the weapon Arthur mentioned, but Lucius knows that a Divine Construct—as the term suggested—held an immense power, and each of them are a force to be reckoned with. He had underestimated Excalibur before, with grave consequences, and he doesn’t really think that he wanted to make the same mistake twice. He glanced at the seemingly harmless, mundane pendant, interestedly, wondering how it would work and how it would look when it had been released from that form. “But magic had certainly changed from my time, and your family had changed, as well. As I said, no ordinary human magus could hope to wield Excalibur and survive. If using the sacred lance was your backup plan, how are you planning to do so, Artorius?”

“I won’t tell you the specifics, since it involves technicalities, although mostly I could not tell you because it is part of my family’s secrets,” Arthur answered, accompanied by the ghost of an amused smile. “I should point out that it is not my backup plan, although I could resort to it if there was absolutely no other way. You are right, Emperor, no ordinary human magus could wield Excalibur, or any Divine Construct for that matter. Their bodies would not be able to withstand the pressure and they would die. But my family are not ordinary or even average in the standards of magi, and we have a way to overcome our limitations, although only for a limited amount of time. In essence, after we release the physical seal, we would be able to temporarily overload all of our magical circuits with an immense amount of mana, and expand their capacity, so our circuits would be able to sustain this state for a short while. The spells to achieve this had been passed on through the crest I have inherited from my father, when he passed away. In our history, this is due to the legend that we are descended from a great dragon.”

“I must say that even one such as I was quite impressed, although I expect nothing less from the descendants of the holy sword wielder,” the memory of that sword’s light—his own last moments—passed through Lucius’ mind like a shooting star, and, once more, Arthur’s image was like that man come again, although this time, he was haloed by the lights of the city behind him instead of Excalibur’s, and the sense of deja vu was nearly overwhelming. “And now I have discovered the true reason behind his epithet, as the Red Dragon of Britain. I would be curious to see how this sacred lance of yours compare to that lost sacred sword. But I suppose such a modification, no matter how temporary, would be taxing to your body, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. It would use up all of my magical energy, and my circuits would not be able to generate any more for a short while after that, so even using a simplest spell would be nothing short than impossible,” Arthur explained. “In essence, I would temporarily lose all my capacity as a magus after such a massive burst of mana. Additionally, since I still have a human body…prolonged and repeated use of the sacred lance would kill me sooner than later. Which is why I can only use it once, twice if I am lucky, as the very last resort, though I hope it would not come to that.”

“A dragon, without a dragon’s heart. Interesting indeed,” there are more that he wanted to inquire, but Lucius could sense it before it happens—an interference in the Magical Path, the additional leak from the wound his Master had received bleeds through faster—and he was already ready to catch him when Arthur stumbled forward and fall into his arms. “We can talk more later. Right now, we need to go back and get your arm fixed, Master.”

“I- I’m fine,” Arthur insisted, trying to wriggle free from his grasp—again—but Lucius won’t let him. “This is nothing. I’m guessing Lancer’s chains had some sort of magical property, perhaps a curse. You should dematerialise, Saber, and we’ll make our way back.”

“And leave you vulnerable while I’m in my Spirit Form?” Lucius scoffed at the thought, although it was amusing and very much characteristic of his foolishly independent Master. Without waiting for Arthur’s response, he lifted him again off his feet, cradling him in his arms like a child, and he weighs less than one to him, too. “Now you’re the one talking nonsense, Artorius. We’re going back like this, whether you like it or not, and I certainly hope you are prepared enough to know how to reverse her curse, if that is the case.”

“There is no winning with you, isn’t it, Emperor?” Arthur countered, but weakly, and wrapped his arms loosely around his neck like before, although Lucius had to help him with his injured one, and it already felt limp when he held it in his hand. “Fine. Then let’s go back. Bedivere should know what to do.”

He doesn’t waste any more time, and, as soon as Arthur gave him the direction, he leaped back into the night, the sparkling city spread out below them, unaware of the war that had started.

It was a race against time, Lucius knows, since with every second that passed he could feel the interference in the Path growing stronger as the wound forced more mana out of his Master, but he had the utmost confidence that his strength and endurance—at the very least—would carry them back in time.

After all, his own life, too—however loose the definition of such a life is, as a Servant—depended on it.

* * *

There is only silence in the sitting room where he sat and waited, on the sofa where Arthur had previously sat on when they have only arrived here in Fuyuki, and it nearly drives Lucius up the wall. He had actually dematerialised, for a bit, to try and lessen the burden on his Master, but it had been quite boring being in Spirit Form even if there was also nothing to do when he materialised again, and, although the thought of spooking Bedivere by appearing out of the blue when he comes to update him amused Lucius greatly, this time around he managed to restrain himself, remembering the gravity of their situation.

The silver-haired man had been the one who received both of them when they returned. He had been nothing short of stoic about it—although it was clear that he was extremely worried, especially seeing that Arthur had passed out, at some point during the last leg of their journey—and was quick to direct Lucius to put Arthur on his bed. Then, just as quickly, he shooed him out of the room, telling him to wait in the sitting room instead since he needed time to tend to Arthur. Normally, Lucius won’t abide such a treatment, especially from a mere magus, one without a distinguished lineage at that, someone that he considered to be very much below his Master’s standing (though he have yet to completely accept Arthur as such), much less himself. But Arthur’s condition is currently his priority too, and thus, he had no choice but to let it slide and forced himself to wait in the sitting room.

Lucius had been using his own mana reserve—although not having Independent Action limited such a reserve greatly—after he materialised back, and he had resorted to pacing the room back and forth, after he could sense that the interference had been stopped (although it was still there), since Bedivere should arrive any moment now.

It could have been an eternity, but in the midst of his pacing while trying to think back to the fight with Lancer, the door swings open and the aforementioned man stepped into the room. He looked harried, tired, his sleeves still rolled up to his elbows, and a couple of stray locks had escaped from the thin fabric that he’d used to tie his long hair neatly back.

“Arthur is fine,” Bedivere immediately told him when their gaze met, before Lucius could say anything. “He is still unconscious, but I’ve stopped the bleeding and temporarily disrupted the irregular flow of mana. He was lucky that it did not hit any of his magical circuits, or the result could have been much more disastrous. I suppose it was a stroke of luck, too, that you brought him back on time,” there was a grudging note in his tone, although hidden quite well, and he sat himself down on an empty chair opposite the sofa. “A little longer, and I might have to amputate his arm.”

“And why should I take your word on it?” Lucius challenged, opting to lean on the wall near the door and crossed his arms instead. “I know he trusted you implicitly, and your family serves his, but you have not proven yourself to me, even if I am not sure that such a thing is necessary, considering the vast difference in our standing.” 

“Saber—“ Bedivere started, and he might have gritted his teeth, although he covered it up with the amiable smile that he’d given him two days prior, when he’d just arrived here. “I might not be a participant in the Holy Grail War, although I know a thing or two about Heroic Spirits, and I have been around Arthur and his family my entire life. With all due respect, now might be the right time to point out that mine specialised in healing and reinforcement magic. I know for certain what I am talking about, and I think I am able to heal him.”

“Then you should swear it to me that you will do your utmost best to heal him,” Lucius demanded, although he kept his posture relaxed, yet he tilted his head slightly, baring his teeth just a little. He still doesn’t have the highest opinion of Arthur even if they’ve supposedly fought together—even if the magus had revealed that he held another powerful weapon in Excalibur’s place—at least he thought as much, but in any case, Arthur’s safety and well-being was his priority. 

He had not yet found another suitable candidate as his Master—going rogue at such an early stage felt quite distasteful and very much below him—and besides, something about Arthur (perhaps it was the aloof way that he held himself, as if he was looking down at the world, separated by a thin sheet of glass, although at certain moments, such as the one they shared at the beach, Lucius could glimpse another side of him, a more fragile one) had awoken the protective instinct in him, even if he could not quite fathom why, for the life of him. “Swear it to me, magus, that you shall do your best to heal my Master, on your life.”

Bedivere looked surprised and perhaps just the slightest bit infuriated at his demand and the thinly-veiled threat, and for a moment Lucius thought that he was about to argue with him, but the other man bit back his tongue, and he nearly scoffed at that. He may not respect Arthur fully yet, but his Master was certainly stronger than this one.

“Very well, Saber. But only because I value your cooperation and friendship to the extent that my dear friend did,” the silver-haired man remarked, only after a short silence, his expression stoic and unreadable. “I swear to you on my honour and my family’s honour as magi that I would do my very best to heal Arthur, and that I, too, would do everything in my power to help him recover.”

Magi don’t have honour, he wanted to point out, not quite, but Lucius considered him for a moment, letting a tense silence fall between them, keeping it that way for a moment or so. 

“I accept your word, although it is mostly because I am feeling quite gracious tonight,” he smiled, sans teeth this time around, but it was no less dangerous than the one he gave Bedivere earlier. “But it is best to keep in mind that should you fail, should you let me down, I will tear you apart from limb to limb and let dogs feast on your corpse. I swear this on the Crimson Divine Father, on Rome, and on my own honour and reputation as Emperor.”

“Yes, I will…certainly keep that in mind,” Bedivere said, uncertainly, his expression wary. “Now, I suppose we can talk a little more concerning Arthur’s condition. Please sit, Saber.”

“Should you really be leaving him alone right now?” The other man had gestured at the empty seat across him, but Lucius blatantly ignored it. “At the very least, if you are going to leave him temporarily, you should let me keep watch over him.”

“Time is of the essence, and I will of course return to tend to Arthur shortly, but for the moment, he should be fine, and I left two homunculi servants to keep watch and to call for me in case anything happens,” Bedivere calmly answered, brushing back a stray lock from his temple. “Right now, I need to know what exactly happened, Saber, so I could determine the possibilities of the cause, and find a suitable method to cure him. I have some knowledge about the Holy Grail War, and I am here to assist Arthur, so you could tell me what happened.”

“I suppose since you gave me your word, and we’ve come to some sort of an agreement based on that, I could trust you for the time being,” Lucius shifted slightly, retracing his memories of the evening. “Nothing much happened while we were in the city, and Arthur had insisted that we should return by the end of the afternoon. However, Lancer appeared and attacked us, and it was during this fight that she had managed to injure him. Her Master interrupted before the woman could do serious damage, and not long after, she ordered Lancer to withdraw,” his lips curled in disgust, remembering both of them. Lancer left a bad aftertaste, although it was more than that. Her presence and the lingering impression that she left afterwards was corrupted, wrong, and even if Lucius’ alignment itself was not particularly a morally superior one to righteous people like his Master, she was fundamentally different, her existence tainted, in a way. The fact that she had managed to injure Arthur like this right under his nose doesn’t help, either, and Lucius felt his fingers itch already from the desire for her blood, and revenge. “Rider appeared shortly after they left. I was about to fight him, but Berserker interrupted us, and Arthur wanted to leave before things get even more complicated, and since we had a deal and I am contracted to him, I obliged.”

“I see. That does not sound good. However, you—well, both of you—did not come straight here after you escaped, did you?” Bedivere furrowed his brow, both his tone and expression thoughtful, but Lucius thought that he heard just the slightest hint of accusation buried underneath.

“No, but only because of Arthur’s orders,” Lucius met the other man’s gaze head-on, undeterred in the slightest, only just a bit challenging. “He thinks that the fights had attracted too much attention, and that we might be followed if we come straight here. Do you not think that I would want to come straight here afterwards, considering his injury?”

“…tell me more about Lancer and the weapon she wielded, then. The manner in which she managed to injure Arthur,” Bedivere dodged his question, and Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly, but he held himself back.

“She was a hooded, cloaked woman, and she wielded a scythe and chains,” the emperor paused for a bit, trying to find the right words in which to describe how the event had taken place. After all, he did felt a pang of guilt for not being able to see through Lancer’s feint. “I had tried to keep her away from Arthur, but unfortunately, he was quite keen on provoking her, and she attacked him. I blocked her offense, but it was a feint, and she agilely went past me. It was her chains that got him.”

“Ah, yes…I suppose such a thing is part of the risk involved in the war,” Bedivere acknowledged, but there was doubt in his eyes, though he tried to suppress it. “And I suppose Arthur must have had a good reason to do so. Can you describe her chains, Saber? What were they like?”

“My foolish, reckless Master did so in order to learn more information about her true identity, her True Name, and I suppose he managed to do just that, although it did cost him,” Lucius couldn’t help but scoff, again, remembering the magus’ cold resolve. He nearly paid that with his own life, and yet…he knows that Arthur thought of him as foolish and bloodthirsty. It was really quite amusing in retrospect, but the emperor made a mental note to keep an eye on Arthur next time. “He thinks she has Mystic Eyes. As for her chains…they are just as annoying and accursed as her. One second they are here, the next they are gone, and it seemed they have a life of their own, almost. I cut them and they melted away. I wanted to know if the same would happen to her when I cut her head off next time, or if she will bleed.”

“Quite interesting, that you would describe it and her as accursed. Yet you are…” Bedivere’s gaze were calm and collected as he observed him, brushing aside Lucius’ deadly excitement. “…unharmed. Ah, but I meant no disrespect, Saber, I was merely making an observation.”

“Any other time, I would consider that as an offence, or at least a sign that you are eager to meet your doom at the tip of my sword, magus, but I will honour your word and commitment to my Master for now,” he snarled, could barely contain himself, since the blame was clear in the other’s man expression and words, although Bedivere did not say it directly to his face. “Yes, her weapon was as accursed as her, small wonder she describes herself as a snake, but I was unharmed because I am superior to her in every way, magus.”

“Yes, that might be possible…” Bedivere leaned back on his seat, a thoughtful look on his face. “I would have liked to see the form of those chains myself, yet shared perception is impossible since we are not Master and Servant, and I am not a participant in this war, so I will be satisfied with your descriptions and recollections of them, Saber. I could not say anything for certain, yet, but…the injury could be due to a curse. You see, had both of you returned even just a bit later, Arthur’s arm would be petrified, turned to stone, in a way, and finding a way to reverse it is not impossible, but I don’t suppose we have the time, considering the situation we were in. And if I did not sever that part, his mana would just continue to spill, irregularly, until I cut off the connection with the main body that supplies the energy, and eliminate it.”

“I do not particularly care about the details or the technicalities,” Lucius said, uncrossing his arms. “Such is not my concern. My role here is to be my Master’s sword, and help him achieve victory in order to gain my own. I will avenge him, most certainly. However, if you have found the cause, then you should immediately find a way to counter it, magus, and give it your all.”

Bedivere seemed to want to object, but could sense his impatience, and he rose from his seat.

“I will pinpoint the cause immediately, and find the most suitable method for healing,” he declared, hesitating for a bit but bowed his head slightly. “Then, I suppose that our conversation here is done, and I will go back to care for Arthur. And, since you are his partner…I suppose I am at your disposal as well. Please let me know if you need anything else, Saber.”

“Good. Yes, our conversation here is done,” Lucius told him, curtly, already wanting this conversation to be over with. “Go. Go and give my Master the best of your abilities. You have my leave.”

The other man nodded, and smiled—it wasn’t hard to tell that it was just as forced as his acceptance of him—but Lucius did not even wait for him to exit the room to switch to Spirit Form. 

Any other time, the insincerity of a retainer would have irritated him, and even in some cases offended him, especially since Bedivere had doubted him quite openly, but right now, his mind was on Arthur, and he had little room to think of anything else.

He hated to wait, but now there is nothing he can do but that.


	9. memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur regained consciousness, after the incident with Lancer, and found his Servant by his bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for disappearing suddenly for four months other than I got sucked into twitter RP, and I lost the 2019 Nano because of that. Still, since I have planned this entire story out and I loved this AU deeply, I will try and finish this, although I might be...slow and/or erratic with updating, in the future. I have like...a couple of chapters already written, and I will try and get them posted soon.
> 
> I did edit an earlier chapter here, just did a minor cosmetic change regarding Arthur's appearance.
> 
> Anyway, double update this time because I went missing and also, end of opening arc. I'm really sorry for vanishing and not updating.
> 
> Enjoy!

She was coming for him, again.

It was as if he was seeing it from someone else’s eyes—perhaps it was Saber’s—because he saw himself as the hooded woman raced towards him, and, through this new set of eyes, Arthur could see the event unfolding slower than he remembered, as Lancer pulled her feint, her chains wrapped around his arm and she dragged him towards her.

This time it wasn’t only cold fear that gripped his heart—something that he felt earlier when it happened, even if he had been trained to conceal it and keep himself under control—but also something like pure, instinctive rage, animalistic and uncontrollable, the wild flames setting his veins ablaze.

He thought that someone was there by his side, a warm presence, familiar and in some ways reminded him of home, or at least what had been before the war—not this one—and, if there had been some pain, he could not feel a thing.

Lancer’s unnatural eyes glinted under her hood, and the scene changed.

The sun is shining, and Arthur recognised the scene from memory. He was sitting cross-legged atop a brightly-coloured picnic mat, and not far from him was a basket. She was there, in a white summer dress accentuated with pale yellow, with a dark brown cardigan thrown on top of it, opening the basket.

“Morgan said that it’s going to rain later,” she pushed up her glasses, which she always did whenever she was nervous or secretly irritated, and Arthur felt his heart stopped. “That’s what she said when I asked her to come with us. Do you think it’s going to rain? Does this look okay?” She fretted, vaguely gesturing towards her dress. “Maybe we should just go home and read something in the library instead, but that would be a waste of this good weather, wouldn’t it…”

There are so many things that he wanted to say to her, the words crowding up his throat like birds in a cage, waiting to be released.

“Morgan always said that,” the him who sat there said, as opposed to the him who watched from behind his eyes, like what he said that particular day, smiling at her. “You shouldn’t listen to her. And it looks good on you. I would know, since I was there when you bought it. The weather is fine, so we should relax.”

She looked at him, doubtfully, frowning only lightly.

“Are you sure that you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, Arthur? Maybe I should have asked Bedivere his opinion too,” she mused, and he leaned forward, extending a hand towards the basket, but she swatted his hand away, and he laughed. “I know you’re already hungry, but seriously, I told you, no peeking. Merlin helped me with this.”

“And you trusted her, Ayaka? Aren’t you afraid that she’s going to give us food poisoning on purpose?” He gave her a mock incredulous look. “I don’t believe for a single moment that that woman could cook.”

“You should respect your teacher a little bit more,” her tone was serious, but he knows that she was anything but. “And, honestly—“

She never finished her sentence, because he moved forward and grabbed her glasses. Ayaka let out a small yelp of surprise, and she tried to get it back, but he scrambled away, laughing.

“Stop teasing me,” Ayaka huffed, flustered, as he held her glasses out of her reach. “You keep saying that Merlin is terrible for playing tricks on people but you, Arthur, you are also terrible—“

Don’t go, he wanted to tell her, don’t fade away, don’t leave me, but the scene faded away, although he could still hear an echo of her voice, scolding him, and he felt a pang of regret, followed by something stronger, an ache, a terrible yearning, because he knows that he would never be able to hear her voice ever again, or see her again outside of these dreams, yet something in him looked for her still, and he thought that perhaps he was still looking.

He could sense others in the room with him, minor ones, barely felt human, coming and going. Their light touch felt cold, clinical, and, for a moment, something somewhere in his body burned, and the warm presence returned.

He fell again, deeper into unconsciousness, as sleep intertwined its fingers in his and pulled him along, and this time, it was the dreams of light.

It was like sleepwalking, although at the same time, Arthur was perfectly aware that he was laying in his bed, inert, yet it was with the same perfect clarity that he witnessed the wastelands outside the walls—he knows deep inside that something terrible had happened, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it—and then there was the high, silver throne, terrible and lonely, and a creeping, unfathomable dread gripped his heart, and he tried to fight it, but it was as if he’d become a lifeless doll, cold and unfeeling—

Throughout all of it he could only watch, helplessly, a prisoner in his own dreams, as the violent light eventually consumed everything, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. Perhaps it whispered something to him, but he could not quite make out the words.

It, however, felt strangely enchanting, like a hypnotic trance, and he wanted to embrace the light, to become one with it. 

A jolt coursed through him—though it was not quite the same with his body, who lay still on his bed—when he felt another touch, and this time he could tell, vaguely, that it was on his brow, pushing his hair aside. The hand was warm, albeit a bit rough, and the touch was not quite familiar, but he had felt it before, and Arthur leaned into it, unconsciously, the presence behind it strange but unmistakably powerful, impossible to ignore or forget.

He could remember the faint, empty ache that throbbed inside his heart when the owner of the hand pulled it away, and a vague impression that someone had thrown something soft and warm over his unconscious figure, and he shifted slightly after that, but sleep, once more, dragged him under.

This time around, his sleep was dreamless, a pleasant haze.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, slowly trying to swat away the heaviness from his eyelids and limbs. A soft, pale golden light permeated the room, and it felt like another dream, but Arthur knows that this is real, since he could feel his limbs again, his heart beating steadily in his chest. He had been sleeping on his side, cheek pressed against the pillow, his breath a soft whisper over it. 

It was late afternoon, he realised, and someone had draped a blanket over him while he was out cold, although he must have tossed and turned at some point since it only covered the lower half of his body now. 

The hazy, nearly otherworldly light felt familiar, comforting, as the vague memory of the one he’d seen in the last dream came to mind—he nearly shuddered, remembering the violent ruthlessness of that light—and he shifted, trying to bring back life into his still sluggish limbs. 

“You shouldn’t move around too much,” an imperious, powerful voice said, from somewhere behind him, and Arthur froze a moment, quite stunned, and especially even more so when the owner of the voice touched his hair, lightly. “I am at least glad that the magus you have under your command is quite capable. He had been the one who patched you up, although I urged him very strongly to do so.”

“You—“ Arthur blurted out, shrugging the other man’s hand aside, turning around to face him. His Servant doesn’t look at all surprised, and he was just as Arthur remembered him: messy red hair, amused amethyst eyes, his presence a firestorm about to erupt, the characteristic, cocky swagger present in everything he do. He quickly bit back the questions that was about to escape from his throat. “I have so many questions, especially about whether or not you threatened Bedivere or try to harm him in any way, but, first of all, how long have you been there? Most importantly, what are you doing here, Saber?”

“I thought it was really quite obvious that I was looking after my Master,” Saber raised an eyebrow, his growing amusement barely suppressed. “Well, someone has to, and I elected myself for the job, since the healer needed to rest. Oh, speaking of which, you needn’t worry about him, Artorius, I did nothing of the sort. I told you, I merely urged him to do his job to the utmost perfection, and if he thinks that it was some sort of a threat or anything like that, well, then it wasn’t my problem, isn’t it?”

“You really do not consider anyone else as your problem,” Arthur told him, coldly, giving him a disapproving look. “Actually, you do not consider anyone else at all, in your extremely selfish equation. Small wonder you were a tyrant in life.”

“Oh, are we slinging casual insults at each other again now?” Lucius laughed, although Arthur wasn’t very surprised, but what surprised him is that the emperor had the audacity to touch his hair again, casually running his fingers on the golden locks as if it was nothing. “Though you really should have tried harder, since I would not even consider that one as an insult. But, at least that is a sign that you are already recovering splendidly, Master, and the healer had done his job. You have been out cold for a day, after all. Well, a day and a half.”

“That’s…” Arthur trailed off, trying to escape Lucius’ touch, especially since his Servant was casually tousling his hair, playing with it, and it was hard not to get distracted. “Stop that, Saber,” he blushed, doing everything in his power to sound stern, although he knows that he’d failed, since Lucius laughed again, but the emperor did retract his hand, and Arthur let out an inaudible sigh of relief. “Was it bad? The…injury, I mean.”

“In my standards, that’s just a glancing blow, barely even that, since she could have gutted you open with her scythe from one end to the other before you could merely blink at her, but if we arrive a moment too late here, you would lose that arm,” Saber shrugged, and Arthur unconsciously reached for his arm, the one that was injured. A strip of bandage covered it, encircling the spot near the elbow, and he ran a finger through it. He could still feel residual mana from where Bedivere had closed the wound and reversed what could only have been a minor curse, and it left a familiar sort of tingling on the tip of his finger. “I don’t think it would leave a scar, but it was quite a nasty little souvenir. The next time we ran into Lancer, I’ll make sure to pay her back handsomely with my Florent.”

“Yes, but…” Arthur thought back to the dreams, or vague recollections of them, at least, since he doesn’t remember them quite clearly. But he thought that perhaps, maybe…he had seen the first one through Saber’s eyes, and he had felt what his Servant had felt at the moment. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for Masters and Servants to share memories and impressions through dreams. 

“No, you do not get a say, and the next time we ran into her or any other Servants, Artorius, you will leave the fighting to me,” Lucius remarked before Arthur could say anything else. “Ah, I suppose this is the right moment to mention that while you were unconscious, I have been keeping watch for any signs of other Servants around, in case we were followed in our mad dash here the day before yesterday. I do not detect any such abnormalities, although I could not say anything about spies since that should be your forte, but I suppose your Bounded Field, the protective spells you’ve cast, and other measures you may have in place are working as they should.”

Saber had been acting perfectly casual, and he was his usual overbearing, obnoxious self—that much did not change. What bothered Arthur, however, was how casually intimate he’d been acting, from the sudden pet name to the casual tousling of his hair, as if they had been close companions all along, and the arguments and differences they’ve had before the fight with Lancer did not happen. Briefly, he wondered what had been going on in Saber’s mind, if the emperor had changed his opinion about him, but then Arthur remembered that he does not want to get involved, even if the contract had automatically bestowed a special connection between them.

He liked to think that this was just another way for Lucius to pass the time, just one of those little games that his type seemed to love playing so much, but either way, Arthur does not want to care. 

Though, the sudden protective streak…it does bother him, in a quite different way, and the thought that Lucius had been somehow worried about him and went extra lengths for him makes him blush, a little, although Arthur tried to push the feeling aside and told himself that it was just because his Servant doesn’t want to lose his steady supply of mana and sole anchor to this world. 

“Is there something wrong?” Lucius expressed, obviously concerned, touching his cheek lightly, and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. Suddenly he realised that he wasn’t quite dressed—he was still wearing his trousers from the trip to the city, but he was quite naked from the waist up, and the blanket that had been draped over him only covered his lower half. It should not have been a big deal, and Arthur was perfectly aware of this, however, with how intimately the other man had been acting, and everything else…somehow, it made him feel flustered, compromised, and he despised the feeling. “If you are feeling anything out of the ordinary, Master, or if you need something, you should say so, and—“

“Don’t you have anything else to do, Saber?” Arthur interjected, giving him a cool glance, this time managing to hide the growing blush and his true feelings. “I thought you do not care much about having a Master, and fretting over me really doesn’t suit you. If you really do care about me that much, Emperor, you should dematerialise to help me recover my mana, and I do not care much for company besides. I will be fine on my own while I heal, and you are right about one thing, this is a minor injury. I should be up and about again soon, so you should not waste any more time playing the nurse.”

“I thought I’ve told you to stop it with the stoic act, Artorius, since you need me as much as I need you, and trying to push me away won’t solve anything,” Arthur thought that he saw a flash of infuriation flashed by in those purple eyes, and Saber pulled away, crossing his arms, looking down at him while he stood there by his bedside. At least he’d dematerialise his armour, Arthur thought, although the emperor still cuts an intimidating figure. “If I am ‘playing the nurse’, as you put it, then you should feel honoured, and grateful besides, especially since yes, I still do not consider you as my Master or anything remotely of the sort just yet, even if your stubbornness really is quite something. And, I am repeating myself here, but I told you, the healer needs rest, and the artificial humans would not be able to keep watch here as well as I do. I take on this job because I am a gracious emperor, and you are like a subject of mine at this point, so you should be grateful for that.”

“Are you all emperors and kings usually this overbearing?” Arthur shot him an annoyed look in return, unable to contain his infuriation any longer, remembering the encounter with Rider. They got on quite well, he thought, somewhat sourly, and it was a good thing that they are enemies, otherwise the world won’t be able to contain all their ego. “No, Sword Emperor, I am not your subject, thank you very much, and you know very well that your Rome is gone. I thank you for your concern, but, I mean it, I do not need you around right now, and I am going to be fine. Please dematerialise and, for the love of god, save me the agony of a headache.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me very much, Artorius,” Lucius countered, confidently, and the look he gave him was positively patronising, which makes Arthur wants to jump out of bed and strangle him. “I am not asking for your opinion in the matter, since I am going to stay here a little while longer anyway, while you recover and regain your bearings. If you have a headache, I can call for one of your artificial human servants to bring you an aspirin. Or should I procure one myself? I’ll make sure to make you take it gently.”

“It just sounded like you are going to shove it down my throat,” Arthur told him, dryly, looking him dead in the eye. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have the worst bedside manner, and you make for a terrible nurse. Please leave now. I’m about to take a shower, and I will have to be alone to do so, unless you want to be extremely inappropriate. I will be careful with my arm, so you don’t have to worry about that, either.”

“I could not tell if that was an invitation or a challenge, but either way, I am going to take it, since I told you, you are my subject now whether you like it or not, and that means your protection is my responsibility,” his annoying, overbearing excuse of a Servant said, casually, and Arthur immediately regretted his decision to try and wiggle his way out of this by way of that excuse. “We can decide on a suitable tribute later, though your mana is already good enough, but for now, I am not going to let you out of my sight.”

Arthur could only stare at him at this, completely baffled and extremely flustered, especially since this could be taken as an innuendo of sorts, and he felt heat rising to his cheeks. He should have known that this would not deter his Servant, and he cursed himself mentally for not knowing any better.

“Lucius,” Arthur said, abruptly pulled himself to a sitting position, not really caring any more of his current half-dressed state. “Get out. Before I use a Command Spell to make you do just that. Or I’ll just try and blow you away with a small scale tornado. I’m not sure if it will work, but it’s worth trying. Do you want to find out?”

He already raised his hand and pointed it towards the insufferable emperor, all the while slowly activating a couple of his magical circuits to start the process, channeling the magical energy generated by them into a small gust of wind that he aimed at Lucius’ chest. 

“I’d like to see you try, Artorius, it would be a most interesting display of your elemental affinity, although it would not accomplish anything,” Lucius smirked, and Arthur felt his annoyance reaching an all time high. It takes all of his self-control to not just switch to a quick Gandr shot and shoot that to the emperor’s annoying, self-satisfied face, perhaps not just one, but however many that it will take to get him out of his face. “But you should not use up too much mana, since I am going to need them later, when we run into more enemies. I will take my leave, then, for the time being,” the emperor uncrossed his arms, gaze lingering a moment too long on his face, and, Arthur felt, for a mere second, his exposed chest, too, a couple of his circuits on the lower half of it glowing faintly. “If you need me, I give you my permission to call for me. Recover well, Master, and I’ll see you again soon.”

Before Arthur could say anything in return, Lucius already vanished, disappearing into golden dust. He lowered his hand, with a long, exasperated sigh, shutting down his circuits once more. He glanced around the room, warily, trying to determine if his wayward Servant is somehow still around, and, once he was certain that Lucius was gone, he pushed aside the blanket and got off the bed, making his way towards the bathroom. 

Dealing with Saber had been emotionally taxing, Arthur thought, as he pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside, although that was a severe understatement. The emperor was overbearing for sure, and, as he’d told him before, an incorrigible show-off besides, though it was not far from his legend as a ruthless tyrant and a formidable warrior. After he managed to summon him, Arthur had looked up the information he’d missed—that someone from his family had defeated him and put the tyrant to rest—and wondered why he could have made such an oversight. He hasn’t seen Lucius’ full prowess in battle yet, but, summoned as a Saber in the prime of his life, the Sword Emperor could only be a fearsome opponent, nothing short of the god that he professed himself to be, though Arthur hoped that it was worth it, considering all the trouble he had to went through in order to procure the suitable catalyst.

With the strongest class under his command, victory should have been easy. He stripped off his remaining clothing—his trousers and underwear—and peeled off the bandage from his arm, but let the pendant hung still from his neck, since it had been enchanted to be impervious to the elements, and he has to keep it on his person at all times besides. Arthur thought back to his father, the one who had walked this path before him and the most powerful magus that he knows, and he remembered that the man had only managed to summon a Lancer-class Servant in the previous war, perhaps reflective of the sacred lance that he was holding at that time, although he came out victorious anyway.

Arthur stepped into the shower, turning the water on.

He does not know much about the last war aside from what his father had told him, and there is not much information about how it had ended, or the aftermath. But he doesn’t really care about that as much as he cares about finding out what happened to her. 

She had disappeared on the same day that his father had left for Fuyuki. There was no letter, no note, nothing. He kept thinking back to the days prior of her disappearance, trying to figure out if there had been signs, or anything at all, but, even if he had dissected the memories of their last days together with the precision of a master surgeon, again and again, he still came out empty-handed, wondering what went wrong.

But there was rarely any coincidence in the world of magi, and he strongly felt that both of the things were connected, and he’d formed a theory based on that. If it’s true—and Arthur knows that it most likely is—then it means that he would never see her again, not alive at least, even if he’d ordered the servants to leave her room as it was, the day she went missing, five years ago.

Perhaps he was here for that reason. 

His mentor, too, opted to remain silent, and what information she passed on to him, he had heard before from his father, although he knows that she was there in the war as much as his father had, advising him, and perhaps Arthur felt a little relief when she left the country on a professed self-discovery trip, shortly after the previous war had ended. 

The dream that he’s had, too, made him think about his sister Morgan—the one who was related to him by blood—and perhaps he felt a pang of regret there, even if they haven’t had the easiest relationship, growing up. But, even if it wasn’t perfect—although his memories made it seem to be so—they had all been happy once, him and Morgan, along with Ayaka, his mentor, and Bedivere. 

Arthur pushed the thought aside, and stopped for a moment while he rinsed off the soap from his body, observing the arm that was wounded, tracing a finger lightly on where the bruise and the wound used to be, droplets of water from the shower dripped gently on it. It would most likely not going to leave a scar, Saber had told him, and somehow, Arthur thought back to him, to the feeling of his soft lips on his hand back at the beach, the anger that he’d felt in his dream when Lancer attacked him, to the way that the emperor had looked at him earlier before he switched to Spirit Form and left him, how his gaze had briefly roved over his naked chest—

He felt the familiar heat rising to his cheeks, but he also felt something flutter inside his chest, something like desire intermingling with yearning—he doesn’t think anyone had looked at him that way, at least not for a while—and Arthur shuddered, too, lightly, under the shower.

But this thought, he pushed it aside as well, with a certain kind of disgust, since Lucius was his Servant, and that was all there is to it, all that was going to be, nothing more, and they do not get along besides, even if the emperor had the audacity to declare that Arthur needed him as much as it was the other way around. 

This infuriates him, and Arthur would say that he did not think of Lucius any longer, even if he dialed up the shower a little bit more to muffle the sounds that he was about to make when he reached down between his legs and take his own length in his hands. After all, it had been a while, the war—even in its early stages—had been quite stressful and draining, and Arthur must admit to himself that he had certain needs he must take care of.

It wasn’t that satisfying, even if he managed to make himself come on his hand, sweat mingling with the water on his brow, panting lightly. He turned off the water and leaned on the wall, momentarily, after he washed his hands clean. A fleeting worry crossed his mind—that his Servant might be able to feel, at least vaguely, what he’d just done, since their connection seemed to have deepened from the dream that he’d had about the fight with Lancer, although shared perception, thankfully, needed express consent—but the thought of Lucius partaking in his self-induced orgasm after he pleasured himself actually turns him on, and Arthur felt disgusted at himself. 

He tried to make himself believe that he was doing it out of spite for the emperor, and he stepped out of the shower, face red with embarrassment, trying to forget what he’d just done and turn his thoughts towards other things.

It wasn’t so hard when he turned his thoughts back towards Lancer, Rider, and Berserker, as he reached for the towel. 

Things had been set in motion, and only time will tell where it would take them.


	10. interlude 1.1: journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful, white-haired magus wrote a letter for her protégé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "25 more chapters when are you going to finish this"
> 
> someDAY.

_It’s been a while since I write, but I hope everything’s been going well—_

_Things had been good for me, give or take a few things, but my journey is going well so far. I met the most amusing old lady who claimed that her dogs can see the future! She invited me in for tea after I told her I wanted to swap stories with her dogs, because I can see the future too. She told me a lot of stories about her grandchildren, her husband, and what it was like here in this country when she was younger, and she asked me about her fortune. I told her that I’m no fortuneteller, but her husband should watch out if he encountered a man in a green shirt. Eh? I can hear you telling me that that’s not how it works. It is, isn’t it? We have to be vague when we tell someone what’s going to happen in their future. I may not have a crystal ball, but you know I’m a great magus, even if I often get tongue-tied during my incantations, and I can see that next Wednesday a man in a green shirt will drop a flower pot on her husband’s head. _

_Ah, please do not give me that look, I can imagine the kind of look you are going to give me. Lighten up a bit, will you? Or you’ll get much, much older before your time. Don’t get wrinkles before you hit 30, my dear student._

_Rome is a beautiful city, and you must come and visit someday. We’ll walk around and eat ice cream in the summer and people watch in the Colosseum. The city truly attracted all sorts of strange and wonderful people, and just recently I rescued a man from a would-be thief. He thanked me profusely (surprised that a girl like me is very handy with a staff) and invited me to dine with him and his daughter, who is a great beauty from the photo he’d shown me. I think you would like the food and the weather here, it’s different from London._

_I snagged a stray cat along the way too. What? I’m going to stay here for a while, and besides, I think he has great aptitude to be a familiar. I don’t quite know what breed of cat he is, but he is of the long-haired sort, all white, and I think perhaps he escaped from someone’s house. Poor fluffy thing. I don’t think he quite likes me, though, and every time I tried to pet him, he scratched me. Actually, I’ve got quite a few scratches on my face right now thanks to this little beast. I am so glad I brought my quick-fix Merlin scratch remover._

_The old lady…she asked me if I have a family of my own, because she thinks I’m “very beautiful”, and your adorable, everlastingly young mentor, yours truly, told her no. She said that having one had been the greatest joy in her life, and I can see why humans think that, since your lives are so short, and you find meaning in your relationship with other people. What I didn’t tell her is that it’s not completely out of the question, but—_

_I’m sorry. I’m really getting off topic again. Arthur—_

_Yes, my journey had been as bright as I thought it would be, as bright as the brightest star, and it brought me great pleasure, to see all these places and met all these people, but…something is coming. A storm is brewing on the horizon._

_Be careful, my dragon. I know you always are, a little too much in fact (which is why I insist that you must loosen up a bit unless you wanted to have wrinkles soon), but I wanted to tell you this anyway. _

_I won’t be able to write again after this, most likely, since I have to take care of something, and I will be here for a while. There is a certain anomaly…but never mind that, it’s not something the Great Merlin won’t be able to handle. I do hope that you would write back, though. I missed you._

_One last thing before I ended this letter. Do not be enchanted by the light at the end of the world. When the storm is here, you must make your choice.  
  
_

The beautiful, white-haired magus stopped writing, for a long while, putting down her pen, looking at the letter she had just wrote, as if the letters had formed a pattern that only she could see. 

She picked up her pen again, after a while, and scribbled something underneath:  
  


_—no. I’m never going to send this one either. I’m sorry, still. I’m sorry, about what happened to Ayaka. I tried to save her, to persuade him to choose someone else—it wasn’t my proudest moment, knowing I bargained other innocent souls for hers—but he was too far gone. He would have the Grail, at any cost, and the light had possessed him. He may think that he is his own person, and that he acted in accordance to what had been prophesied, but its invisible hand had guided him all along, all this time. Yet I know what he did was wrong, and I could have done more…_

_It pained me to see the kind of person you have become. My dearest student…Arthur, I missed your smile, and who you were, back then, when we laughed together, having tea in the greenhouse after your lessons, talking about everything and yet nothing at all. I know I teased you a lot about how serious you were, but you were never shy with your laugh back then, and you were always generous with your smiles._

_This is really silly of me, since you’d never read this, and I’d consign this one, too, to the flames, soon. But I thought of you, now, alone in that dismal mansion, your heart closed off forever and I—_

She pushed the paper aside, abruptly, and quickly grabbed a new one. She paused only for a moment, before she began writing again, this time on the still-pristine letter paper.  
  


_I hope this letter finds you well._

_I’m doing well myself. I’ve landed in Rome and I’ve been staying here for a couple of days. The weather is good, the food isn’t bad, and the people are nice here. I’ve helped a few already. Truly, everything had been wonderful, and I hope you are doing well, too._

_I won’t be able to write to you again for a while after this, since there is something I must do. But I wanted to tell you that a storm is brewing on the horizon. Be careful, my student. I have faith in your abilities and you are a gifted magus, but this one will not only concern you._

_I must end this correspondence now, but I need to tell you one more thing:_

_Do not be enchanted by the light at the end of the world. When the storm is here, you must make your choice._

_I hope to hear from you soon, Arthur. Take good care of yourself. I know your father will be proud of you._  
  


She wasn’t quite satisfied with this, either, and she scowled at the piece of paper for a moment, as if it had done something to offend her, but the scowl quickly disappeared, and she read again what she’d just written, with a look of profound sadness.

But she signed it with her name and folded it carefully, tucking it into an envelope that she had prepared. 

The other one—the one that she’d written earlier—will soon be torn apart and fed to the flames, never to see the light of day.


	11. interlude 1.2: chess pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war had begun, and the once-kingmaker muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't made progress with the newest chapter but...I hope I can get back to the swing of things when I can. Have another double update. <strike>yeah I guess I'm cheating with these bite-sized interlude chapters shhhh</strike>
> 
> Arthur didn't show for NP2 this CBC after 183 SQ and 15 tix so I thought I'd cheer myself up by updating this fic.

The war had begun, at last.

He had seen various worlds: worlds that had gone past their end, worlds that had only just been born, worlds beautiful beyond compare and worlds of endless desolation, all locked in the same cycle of creation and destruction. All the same, with an equal starting point, but with different fates, although humanity…well, humanity, he thought, it never changed.

Once, perhaps, in a distant world, one that had been lost to him, he had watched over them, guided the best of them: the protector of the planet itself. He had placed his faith in them, in _her_, and watched as she brought salvation to her people, and created something truly beautiful.

But nothing beautiful lasts.

This world, too, is beautiful, although now he despised such beauty, but he could see its future, how it had unknowingly walk into its own end like a lamb into slaughter, and what resulted afterwards. He only had a working theory on how he’d managed to travel between worlds after he became a Heroic Spirit, much less on the why, but the moment he stepped into this world and glimpsed its future, he knew, immediately, that this had been the purpose of his seemingly aimless wandering. There is no such thing as coincidence, even if it may seem so, and he was certain that he was instrumental to what he had glimpsed, tied closely to the fate of this world.

And if that had not been the case, then it was not his concern, for he had found a new purpose, and he would reach that end, no matter what it takes.

Things had been quite different in this world, but, in a way, that only serves to make matters more interesting, and, as he quickly figure out shortly after his arrival and initial contact with her, the pieces are already in place. All it would take is a little push, and everything would soon fall into place.

And so, he watched, again, watched as the glorious banquet of carnage and despair begins in Fuyuki, watched as his quarry unknowingly walked into the eye of the storm, and the fateful role that awaited him.

All the pieces are in place, and all it would take is a little push…his plan to lure his chosen, too, is in place.

He could envision it already: his wish made manifest where the people in this world would finally be saved as was their fate even without his help…the first judgement by the Grail, followed by the shining city come again, more beautiful than the one she had created, under that lost, distant blue sky. 

And this time, the beauty of the city would be eternal, unchanging, something that his king would come to embody, but unlike the last time, this time he would personally make sure to remove the undesirable qualities first before his king took his throne at the end. Mercy, love, desire, memories…all the unfortunate side effects that humans had merely by the virtue of being one, all the abhorrent, shameful, grisly qualities that they so proudly proclaim as their strength. It was all useless, ridiculous, and, in his experience, led to their downfall, even the protector of the planet herself, the one who had brought salvation to her people, but this time around, he won’t let it happen.

He would create nothing short but a perfect king…after all, history has called him a kingmaker.

It was none of his concern if his chosen refused his role, although the pieces are in place. Fate is a harsh mistress, and the idea that they all had something approaching freedom of choice is nothing short of laughable.

The war had begun, and it will be the last.


	12. danse macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first battle, Arthur felt restless, until Lucius brought to his attention a series of murders that has been happening in the city. The two agreed to set out to investigate soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is where things are getting good, and I promised you biker Lucius, so have at it. When am I going to finish this fic?? SOMEDAY.

A couple of days passed after the encounter at the container port, calm winter days overlooked by a pale blue sky. Snow had started to fall, albeit sparingly, and the graceful, generally tranquil atmosphere betrayed the fact that the war for the Greater Grail had begun.

The small, yet abnormal wound that Lancer had left on his arm had disappeared without a trace. He had kept an eye out for the hooded Servant and the others through his spy drones, but if other Servants had been abroad in the city, their Masters had done very well to keep them hidden, and themselves as well. Even Rider, who, with his disposition and weapon, should be the easiest to find and monitor by definition, had seemingly disappeared without a trace, vanishing into thin air.

The secret war may have had its dramatic opening act, but it had yet to progress beyond that, and Arthur felt…restless, wary. There was no telling what their enemies will do next, although he kept his eyes peeled and tried to squeeze whatever information there could be had, no matter how seemingly trivial it is. He had tried to pore over the information that they had gained during that first encounter, as well, but there wasn’t much to go by, even if Rider and his dramatic announcement had made things slightly easier for him.

Arthur had opted to sit in the corner of the small library in the study this morning after he’d had breakfast, picking a book that he found there by random from an equally random shelf. This was by far the only place where he could find some relative peace and quiet other than his room, but the latter had become quite impractical, since if he stayed too long in there, his steward would have thought that he felt sick or some such, and that would invite even more unnecessary concern, while here, he could pretend that he was reading or going over some things.

After the incident with Lancer, the silver-haired man had become nothing short of a mother hen of sorts, hovering over his shoulder, making sure that he recovered correctly and well with no apparent side effects or nasty lingering aftertaste, even if—as Arthur had pointed many, many times for the past few days—it was merely a scratch, even if a cursed one.

He would have gone out and escaped this sort of smothering attention, but his own Servant had been keeping a closer eye on him, and it was harder to slip out from the emperor’s grasp, even if he was supposedly the one in charge here.

The thought made Arthur scowl, instinctively, flipping a page listlessly on the book he was holding. He had initially thought that Saber is an open book, being the pompous, dramatic sort that he is, but after everything that had gone down—during their time at the city proper, the fights and everything after that—he wasn’t quite sure what is going on in his Servant’s mind anymore. Yesterday, he had expressed, absently, during afternoon tea in the sitting room, that he was going for a walk to the park nearby, though he won’t be long, and the emperor had told him, in a tone that brooks no argument, that he was going to come along with him, something which Bedivere had immediately approved. Arthur had initially thought, too, that the two did not get along considering their vastly different temperaments, but, for some reason, after this incident with Lancer, both seemed to have some sort of a tacit, secret agreement to take turns keeping close watch of him.

This understandably aggravates Arthur, since—although he could tolerate Bedivere and his extreme concern, being both his steward and friend—he could not say that he got along well with Lucius, at least he doesn’t think that they are, since they still argue and exchange subtle insults for the past days, mainly when the emperor barged in during inopportune moments, which, frankly, is every time he appeared without being invited or called. Lucius had, evidently, overstepped his boundaries as his Servant, and Arthur still doesn’t know what to think, too, about the sudden protective streak.

It made him felt trapped, suffocated, and, flipping three more pages randomly—he couldn’t concentrate on the words, and he doesn’t really care, actually—it doesn’t help that the strange, repetitive dreams of the light and the throne haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, in all honesty—he’s been delaying sleep at night after he retired back to his room, and every time he was about to fall asleep he forced himself back awake again—though he had hid like this and stole a precious few moments to catch up with some sleep, hoping that the dreams would not bother him this time around. 

Of course, he kept all of this—bad dreams and trouble sleeping—a secret from both his steward and his Servant, since it would cause yet even more undue concern on their part, and Arthur absolutely did not want that, since right now they had caused him enough stress as it is.

He put the book down on his lap, finally gave up, and leaned back on his seat. Perhaps now would be the right time to try and catch up with more sleep, although, speaking of Saber…he doesn’t think the emperor is faring any better than him, either. He thought that perhaps Lucius had somehow took his job as his Servant seriously—although he still professed that he still doesn’t consider Arthur as his Master just yet—since he needed desperately to do something, and it was something of a miracle that the boorish, violent emperor hadn’t broken anything yet or broke out of the house to seek a fight.

Though, he could see the glint of restless, barely suppressed aggression from the way Lucius moved and spoke—especially when they argued, which he thinks the emperor particularly relished and makes him wonder if Lucius did get on his nerves on purpose—and, Arthur thinks that should things continue like this, perhaps it’s time to bait out an enemy and let him fight to his heart’s content, before the emperor did anything needlessly destructive.

The lack of quality sleep, the reassuring, peaceful silence of the study, and his full stomach makes Arthur felt drowsy, and he was about to fall asleep, when someone barges in. The sudden, intrusive noise of the door being opened and the heavy, telltale footsteps made him snap awake.

“Don’t you have the sense to knock?” Arthur scowled at him when the intruder found him in his corner, before he could say anything first. “How many times have I told you to knock, Saber?”

“Too many times to count, but I told you, Master, I don’t really care,” Lucius shrugged, as cocky and obnoxious as ever. “I could even forgo using doors should I wish for that, but you should be grateful that I did not forget my manners. I do not think I could possibly interrupt anything of importance, in any case, though you should be honoured of my interruption, as well,” the emperor paused briefly, observing him closely. “Are you about to nod off again, Artorius? I’ve caught you do just that yesterday, in the sitting room. Perhaps that is why you have been so cranky and aggressive?“

“You should really speak for yourself, Emperor, just yesterday too you nearly broke a teapot, and Bedivere would be angry if you do,” Arthur glared at him still, although he quickly straightened himself up and smoothed his clothes, setting the book on his lap aside. “But, in any case, I do not know what you were talking about. I did not fall asleep in the sitting room yesterday, and I wasn’t about to just now. You should really stop imagining things, even if I know that you Roman Emperors are entitled to your fair share of delusions. Now,” he firmly said, before Lucius could object, crossing a leg over the other, shifting slightly on his seat to get a better look of him. “What is your purpose of being here? If you only want to bother me, you can wait until lunch.”

An amused look crossed the other’s man face, and, for a moment, Arthur had a fleeting worry that he knows about his sleeping problems somehow or at least shared the strange dreams through their special connection, but it was quickly replaced with something of an excited look, and Arthur felt his worries melting away. He wouldn’t know.

“Don’t you think I would not be here if I do not have anything that might interest you?” Arthur opened his mouth, already about to argue, since for the past days all his Servant ever did was bother him with all sorts of nonsense, but Lucius silenced him with a look. “I know gathering information is your job, and usually I would not bother since it was your end of the deal, but there was nothing much to do aside from keeping an eye on you, and I was bored. Thus, I flipped through the newspapers, and I found something.”

“You bothering to read something out of your own volition is part of the news to me, but go on,” Arthur eyed him, leaning forward interestedly, even if he kept his cool. “Tell me what you found.”

“Save your insults, Artorius, I was born to take the throne, and I had the finest education my great Empire had to offer during my time, no matter what sort of incorrect assumptions you may have about me,” Lucius countered, but he did not quite take the bait, either, and, Arthur noticed that he actually looked quite distracted, which piques his interest. “Yes, I found something…a string of unsolved murders, to be exact. They all happened recently, and I could tell that it is the work of a Servant. The newspapers called this string of murders ‘_danse macabre_’, and I suppose the basic idea matched, since the victims have nothing in common with each other and come from all walks of life, although most of them had been young men. It was quite amusing, I suppose, that they try to turn this into something poetic, considering the fact that all the victims had been melted away and what’s left of them are merely their teeth, and some clothing articles. Yes, it was gruesome, although not as bloody as I would have liked, and I know for certain that a Servant is behind it.”

“If it were up to you, it would be a bloodbath, wouldn’t it,” Arthur remarked, flatly. “Perhaps I should have summoned you as a Berserker instead, Sword Emperor, but I would very much prefer to avoid unnecessary carnage. But how can you be so certain that this is the work of a Servant, and not just a serial murderer on a deadly rampage?”

“Think about it, Artorius, it’s not an easy feat to melt off a human’s body without a proper setup. One should give you enough trouble, much less more, and in the span of a week or so with such a small gap in-between the victims. If that does not convince you, these murders start a couple of days before we arrived, and then intensified afterwards,” his Servant pointed out, taking a seat beside him. “We should go and investigate. Here, take a look at these yourself.”

The emperor handed him a couple of newspaper clippings that he’d been carrying, and Arthur took them from his hands, smoothed them out for a bit before he started flicking through them. All of it was dated recently, and everything matched what Lucius had told him.

“That is not all of them, but I suppose that should be enough to convince you,” Lucius continued. “This could only be a Servant going rogue. Perhaps their Master could not supply them with the mana they needed, or perhaps they killed their own Master…or perhaps, even, they do this for the sake of killing itself.”

“A gruesome thought,” Arthur scanned the articles again, trying to find out any clues about the killer behind it and perhaps, too, how their mind works. “But I do not see any extreme cause of concern yet, since, if this is really a Servant, they had not attack us in any way just yet.”

“Do you not remember what you promised me shortly after you summoned me? You promised me the Grail, Artorius, and we are not going to get it if all we do is sit around waiting for our enemies to strike and adjust our strategy to theirs,” Lucius argued, giving him an incredulous look. “You owe me for making me miss the fight with the King of Kings and Berserker, as well. And if you need a moral reason, it is right there. I thought you cared about protecting innocent lives? If we did not stop this Servant, more will be killed. I personally do not care much about them, trivial human beings as they are, but if I had to endure the tedium of this household for one more hour, I am going to start breaking things, and you won’t like me when I do.”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t say the prospect of that excites me, although now you do sound like a ten-year old, Emperor,” Arthur shot him a sour look, but thought it over in his mind, absently going through the clippings again. Once, he had believed, truly, that people should be protected, that he could protect them, somehow, even if he knows that the ritual is the very opposite of victimless…no, they should be spared the pain and suffering, he used to think, nobody deserves that. Yet her disappearance and the circumstances surrounding it, what he believed had happened to her…it was an unavoidable consequence of the war, as he’d learnt himself five years back. He couldn’t protect her, and it made him feel numb, distant. “But you are right, we must stop this unknown Servant from claiming the lives of more innocent civilians,” he told the man beside him, meeting his gaze, although he doesn’t believe what he said, or felt that he particularly cared, for that matter. “If it is a Servant, then we are one step closer to the Grail, for that matter. Yes, we will set out to investigate at once, later today.”

“Excellent,” Lucius rose from his seat, flashing him an eager smile. “I will look forward to it. For now, I should leave you to your own devices.”

“We’ll talk more at lunch,” Arthur told him, grateful that this means his Servant would leave him alone for a bit. “I’ll see you soon, Saber.”

He felt quite relieved when the emperor left, and, putting aside the newspaper clippings, Arthur flipped open the book he had been trying to read earlier, not giving the clippings nor the conversation he’d just had with Lucius a second thought.

At least this would be a good opportunity for him to get out of the house again, and perhaps for his Servant to blow off some steam, and it might be interesting.

Fleetingly, he wondered what manner of Servant could be behind the string of murders, but the thought didn’t last, since this time around, he managed to fall asleep, still holding the book in his hands.

* * *

The sky hasn’t quite darkened into twilight just yet, but Arthur already waited for his Servant in the garage, leaning on the wall near the door that led to the house proper, keeping an eye on it. 

They had agreed—somehow without a petty argument this time—to set out and investigate when dusk falls, starting from the part of the city where the bulk of the murders had happened, and the agreed time wasn’t without good reason. That particular part of the city would only begin to come alive when darkness falls, and they have not ventured there before—Arthur had kept them away from it with reasons of his own, mostly concerning safety, although he knows that his Servant most likely doesn’t care, since he does not need any sort of protecting. But the place endorses the sort of vices that someone like Arthur despised, although he couldn’t help but feel rather curious about it too, in a way in a manner similar with the beach. Since he had a sheltered upbringing as a magus, there are certain places that he could not or have not visited, even back at home in London, and that, inevitably, made him yearn for new experiences and places, even if he does not show it.

The door swings open, and his Servant stepped into the garage, his gaze quickly falling on him. Arthur had told him that they need to blend in this time, with a more casual look, and the emperor seemed to have comply, dressed in a leather jacket with a dark red shirt underneath, paired with dark jeans and black boots. Arthur, too, had dropped his usual look, and opted to go with a navy blue coat and a black button-up shirt, along with dark blue jeans and black Oxford shoes. 

“I certainly hoped I have managed to fulfill your request, Artorius,” Lucius declared, and Arthur realised that they have been sizing each other up for a moment, and he quickly looked away, hoping that the other man would not notice the subtle red colouring creeping up his cheeks. He briefly remembered what he’d done in the bathroom a couple of days back, after the incident with Lancer, and the embarrassment burned on his face. He certainly hoped that Saber would not see his blush, because the man would never let him live it down. “You know, I really should be the one making requests, especially since you still owe it to make it up to me. And I saved you too. But I suppose what you’re wearing right now is fine,” he continued, his gaze still sizing him up—Arthur still wouldn’t meet it—sounding so self-satisfied it makes his blood slowly boil. Something about Saber always seemed to have that effect on him.

“I am not quite certain what you mean by that, Saber. We are not going out for pleasure,” Arthur retorted, flatly. “And I thought it was part of your deal and job to look out for me? I did not owe you anything, and, perhaps I should repeat it again that I am not your subject,” he shot the emperor a look, uncrossed his arms, and straightened up himself. “But if you really do insist to think of it that way, then you can consider me letting you tag along in physical form as part of…an apology…for making you miss the fight with Rider and Berserker.”

He had originally intended to set out on his own, letting his Servant follow him but in Spirit Form. Arthur had wanted to bait the unknown Servant out and fight them on his terms instead of blindly going deep into what could only be their hunting ground, and he knows the enemy would most likely take the bait, considering the fact that he fits their preferred demographic of victim, but—

“I thought we had agreed, Artorius, that I am not letting you place yourself in danger once more. If you think that it is my job to protect you, then you should let me do just that, don’t you think? Besides, I would love to see what this Red Light District is like for myself,” the emperor flashed him a dangerous, excited smile, and Arthur nearly scowled at him for that, but he held himself back. “You should be fine so long as you stick to my side and let me handle all the fighting that will soon commence. So, where is your driver and your car?”

“Yes, that might be the plan for the moment, but we shall see,” Arthur told him, and he motioned at the other man to follow him. “I told you, I am not defenceless, Emperor. And we are not taking the car this time. We’re going with this,” he motioned towards the sleek silver-and-black motorcycle in the corner. “It’s mine. It had been reinforced with Magecraft, with both Bedivere’s and my own additions, and it could match a Servant’s agility, more or less, and take some beating should it comes down to it.”

“Yes, this is fine, a ride befits an Emperor of my reputation and standing,” Lucius approached the motorcycle, with a measure of awe and barely contained excitement, running a finger through the silver line of its body. “I accept this offering. Climb behind me, Master, I’ll show you my outstanding riding ability as a Saber.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? It’s mine,” Arthur couldn’t help but scowl this time, even at Lucius’ back. “I’m driving, and I am certainly _not_ offering it to you in any capacity, so you should be the one climbing behind me.” 

He fished out the key from his coat pocket to prove it, dangling it in front of Lucius’ face when the other man turned around to face him.

“Then why would you give me these gloves?” Lucius sounds and looked amused, which Arthur doesn’t like, and his gaze briefly went to the black gloves he was wearing. They certainly looked appropriate for the occasion, and he cursed himself mentally. “Yes, I know, I know, they are a Mystic Code, but it does seem strangely appropriate, doesn’t it?”

“They _are_ a Mystic Code, and I lent them to you specifically because it will help conceal your presence and signature as a Servant,” Arthur pointed out, trying to not get riled up. “Now, stop arguing with me, and—“

His Servant had somehow took this as a permission to snatch the key from his hand, and Arthur felt his mouth drop open in disbelief.

“I told you, I am not asking for your opinion. Now, are you going to be quiet and climb aboard, or should I haul you bodily, Artorius?” The emperor gestured towards their ride, casually, and Arthur closed his mouth, biting his bottom lip, feeling anger rise inside of him but trying so hard to suppress it. 

“There is no winning with you, but this doesn’t mean you won,” he coldly said, narrowing his eyes at Lucius. “Let’s just get going. I’ll let you drive…this time. Only because you are childish, Emperor, and I do not want to argue with you a moment longer.”

“Good,” his Servant said, evidently amused, already climbing on the bike and putting the key in the ignition. “Then let’s get going. It’s getting dark.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, still trying to suppress his growing infuriation, but Lucius had already stared at him expectantly, with a cocky smile, and he had to bit back his annoyance and climbed behind him on the motorcycle.

“Hold on tight,” Lucius told him, languidly, the steady hum of the engines filling the garage. “You haven’t forgotten to tell one of your servants to open the garage door, right? Because I do not particularly care about that, and if you haven’t done so, I’m about to drive right through it.”

“If you do that, I will surely kill you,” Arthur threatened, but the emperor laughed. “You are crazy, you know that, Sword Emperor?”

“Perhaps, but you summoned me,” Lucius pointed out, but Arthur could not give him a clever retort this time, since he’d started revving the engine, and Arthur had no choice but to wrap his arms around the other man’s midsection and save his complaints for later. He thought he heard Lucius laugh, again, above the din of the engine, just like that night, when they escaped from Rider and Berserker.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always, comments are welcome! <3


End file.
